


Thursday's Child

by miss_whimsy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, HP: EWE, M/M, pride & prejudice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-05 19:47:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 34,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_whimsy/pseuds/miss_whimsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. </p><p>Or a husband.</p><p>And Harry Potter is, after all, very rich indeed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been a labour of love for me over the past year. I'll be posting one part each day between now and the 26th of December.
> 
> The fabulous beta work of [skywardsmiles](http://archiveofourown.org/users/skywardsmiles/pseuds/skywardsmiles) whipped it into shape. All errors are my own.

Harry knew it was coming, but in all honesty he'd thought he'd make it through the engagement party before it happened.

"Your turn next, Harry, dear," Mrs Weasley said, cornering him by the ironing board.

"My turn?" Harry asked, taking a sip of the sadly non-alcoholic punch.

"To get married," Mrs Weasley elaborated, patting his shoulder. "You need to think about settling down."

"What?" Harry coughed, almost choking on his drink this time, but he could see Molly wasn't listening. She was smiling happily back across the room at Ron and Hermione, who were busy laughing with Hermione's parents.

"You're a good catch. And you'd not getting any younger."

"I'm twenty-five," Harry protested.

"Ginny looks beautiful in green, don't you think?"

Ginny always looked beautiful, Harry thought, but saying so was one of the luxuries he'd given up when he'd ended their relationship, and agreeing with Molly was going to make her believe there was still a chance for them.

"I just want you to be happy, sweetheart," Mrs Weasley said, and Harry felt a huge ball of guilt and regret settle in his stomach and he forced himself to smile back at her as she kissed his cheek and scampered off to talk to another one of the guests.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder as he downed the rest of his punch, and another glass, this time filled with a warm amber coloured liquid, was pushed into his free hand.

"Chin up, Harry," Mr Weasley said. "Have some mead."

"Mead?" Harry said, sniffing at the glass. "It smells like broom polish."

"George is working on that," Mr Weasley muttered conspiratorially. "But it tastes as good as any mead you could buy."

Harry took a sip, and felt his face scrunch up and then twist into any number of odd expressions. "It's quite nice," he coughed eventually, and Arthur whacked him on the back.

"Molly just worries about you," Mr Weasley said, when Harry could breathe again. "You've been through a rough few years and now we want you to be happy. You're young. You're smart. You've got a nice job and good prospects. Witch Weekly has voted you most eligible bachelor five years in a row."

Harry winced and glanced instinctively towards Ginny. This time she was looking back and she pursed her lips in a way that meant "Do you need saving?". Harry nodded imperceptibly.

"Any girl would be lucky to have you," Mr Weasley continued. "Or boy, of course. Man." He cleared his throat. "I mean, you should think about it, that's all. Marriage."

Ginny was almost upon them, backed up by Ron and Hermione, as Arthur slipped away.

"You look like you just swallowed a flobberworm," Ron said.

"That'll be the mead," Harry told him, offering the glass to Ginny.

"No, thanks," Ginny said, shaking her head. "I saw what went into it."

Ron relieved Harry of the glass and took a sip. "That's disgusting!" he said, before taking another sip.

Hermione looked on fondly, making Harry smile. He was genuinely happy for them. Happy that after all the death and misery, the screaming matches, the school work, the real work, that Ron and Hermione were happy and they could all celebrate their marriage together.

Of course, that train of thought distracted him enough that when Hermione returned her attention to him, he was unprepared.

"What's wrong then?"

"Molly and Arthur want me to get married," Harry said flatly. Ginny spat her mouthful of wine onto his shirt.

"Not to me, I hope," she said, reaching for a napkin and dabbing at the red stain.

"No," Harry drawled, pushing Ginny away gently as he pulled out his wand and made short work of cleaning himself up. "But it's good to know how you really feel."

"Sorry," she said with a sheepish grin and hugged him. "It's just… well, you know."

Harry did, so he kissed the top of her head and hugged her to his side.

Percy appeared beside them and filled up their glasses. "You'll never guess what Audrey found out today," he said, loud enough to draw the attention of everyone else in the room. George poked Audrey in the ribs, making her laugh.

"Oh no," she said. "I promised Percy he could tell you."

"Well spit it out, Perce," George chirped. "You've looked half ready to explode with excitement since you got here. Is Kingsley making you Minister? "

"No, worse than that," Percy told them, and waited for a suitable lull in the laughter before he added, "Blaise Zabini has purchased Cuttingly Court."

The silence that followed was deafening.

"What's Cuttingly Court?" Harry said after a good two minutes had passed.

"It's a house," Arthur said, pointing vaguely in what Harry assumed to be the right direction. "About two miles south. Our land is divided from theirs by the river."

"House is a bit of an understatement," Ron said with a snort of derision. "It's huge. It was built by a mad Duke about three hundred years ago."

"And now a mad Slytherin is moving in," Ginny muttered, taking the wine bottle from Percy's hand and refilling her suddenly empty glass.

"Well," Molly said, bustling over to retrieve the wine bottle and glass from her daughter. Harry hid his smile as she swallowed half the glass herself. "We'll be polite and civil. Arthur, you'll have to go and call on him. I'm not having anyone saying we're anything less than hospitable to our neighbours."

"Yes, dear," Arthur said.

"Zabini," Ron murmured to Harry and Hermione once everyone else's attention had turned elsewhere. "That slimy git. What's he thinking, moving in next door?"

"It could be worse," Hermione said, stroking his cheek gently with one finger until he smiled.

"How?"

Harry grinned at them both. "It could be Malfoy."

\---

Draco was watching the rain. It had been coming down steadily for the last few hours, giving the smart, neat lawns of Cuttingly Court a fresh and verdant appearance.

"…utterly charming, isn't it, darling?" Pansy was saying as she paced the drawing room, her midnight blue robes swishing around her artfully. Draco hummed in a vaguely approving manner and hurriedly scribbled down a few more words in the letter he was supposed to be writing to his mother.

"…not even listening to me," Pansy continued. "Draco!"

"No," Draco replied and dropped his quill. "No, I'm sorry, I wasn't listening to you." He turned in his seat to face her. "What were you saying?"

Pansy sniffed superciliously and settled down on the sofa. "I was saying that Blaise has found himself a charming home. Now he just needs to find a charming wife." She paused, straightening her skirt while Draco rolled his eyes. "And so do you."

"Give it a rest, Pans," Draco sighed, turning back to his letter. "You're beginning to sound like my father."

"He's worried about you, darling," Pansy said. "We all are. You're not getting any younger. You need an heir."

Draco laughed. "And lumber some poor child with a draughty manor house, some demented house elves and three senile peacocks?"

"It's a beautiful house," Pansy protested.

"It's a nightmare to maintain," Draco said, shaking his head. "Costs the earth."

"Yes, but you're rich," Pansy snapped, as though that ended the argument. "Who will it go to when you die?"

"Not you, my angel," Draco said. "So I hope you're not harbouring any thoughts of adding arsenic to my eggs." He grinned when Pansy stuck her tongue out at him. "It's entailed. It'll all go to Teddy." Pansy winced, but Draco was grateful that she refrained from commenting on his cousin. "And he may do with it as he pleases. Personally, I hope he eats the peacocks."

Pansy sighed. Draco had heard that particular sigh many times over the years and nothing good had ever followed it.

"Blaise and I are going to the Assembly Rooms in Upper Buttleby tonight," Pansy said. "They're having a dance. Blaise wants to get to know the locals."

Draco knew exactly where this conversation was going and searched frantically for an excuse.

"You'll come with us won't you, darling?"

"Actually, I..."

"Good," Pansy said and rang for a house elf to bring the afternoon tea. "Maybe you'll meet someone there."

\---

The Assembly Rooms were full and loud with the sound of excited chatter as the local Wizarding families, the Weasleys included, waited for the arrival of Blaise Zabini. The band had been playing for more than an hour, before the doors opened to reveal the party from Cuttingly Court. George and Ron were dancing enthusiastically and stopped a good thirty seconds after everyone else. Blaise stood in the doorway, flanked to his right by Pansy Parkinson in stunning red robes with a dramatic plunging neckline, and to his left, by Draco Malfoy.

"Malfoy," Ron hissed at Harry as a ripple of intrigue went around the room. "What's he doing here?"

"He's Blaise's best friend," Hermione pointed out. "I'd have been surprised if he wasn't here."

"Yes," Harry said, "but I didn't think he'd ever show his face where there might be Weasleys and Potters present."

Ron grinned. "Obviously he didn't know. Look at his face. He looks like he just stepped in Hippogriff dung."

Malfoy did indeed look miserable, even more so than the last time Harry had seen him, seven years ago at his trial. He looked tired and thin, which merely magnified the sharp angles of his face and made him appear more haughty and contemptuous than usual.

Harry found himself giggling with Ron, and trying his best to avoid Hermione's pointy elbows making contact with his ribs.

"We must go and say hello," Molly said, appearing out of nowhere and shooing them all forward. "We will be the bigger people. We are better than…"

"They are?" George finished as Angelina gripped his hand. "Mum."

"No arguments. You will all say hello."

The whole family shuffled closer to Blaise, who was talking animatedly with Xenophilius Lovegood.

"Oh,” Blaise said pleasantly, turning to greet them when Xenophilius gave Molly a cheerful wave. “Hello Mrs Weasley. It’s so nice to meet you all, finally. And Potter of course. Nice to see you again."

Ron, George and Percy wore matching looks of surprise and it was up to Ginny to step forward, shake Blaise's hand and welcome him to the neighbourhood.

"I hope you'll allow me the pleasure of a dance, Miss Weasley," Blaise said, with a wink, and Ginny laughed her acceptance, stepping closer to him.

Harry knew his eyebrows must be hiding somewhere near his hairline and forced himself to relax. Hermione, Audrey and Angelina were all trying to calm down their boyfriends, so Harry turned away, hoping he could find Luna and slip away for a glass of red and a chat about the mating habits of bowtruckles, or something equally ridiculous. Instead he came face to face with Draco Malfoy.

"Potter," Malfoy greeted him with what Harry thought was slightly less enmity than every other time they'd spoken since the day they'd met in Madam Malkin's.

"Malfoy," Harry said, trying to keep his voice sounding reasonably civil. "I didn't expect…"

"No, neither did I, or I wouldn't have…"

"Well, I hope you have a good night," Harry said quickly, hoping to prolong what was the most friendly conversation they'd ever had. "The band is very good."

"Not if you don’t like dancing," Malfoy said, looking towards the band with a vague air of contempt. “And I don’t.”

"No, of course you don't," Harry laughed. "Why would I ever have thought…?" He trailed off, still smiling. "Same old Malfoy."

"Same old Potter," Malfoy sneered. "Couldn't you have worn some proper robes? Or at least combed your hair?"

Harry slid his hand through his hair artlessly and shrugged. "Piss off, Malfoy." He turned away, finally spotting Luna's golden locks through the crowd of people trying to get closer to Blaise.

Luna hugged him when he finally reached her, and tugged him into a smaller, less crowded room where she helped them both to some punch. "How are you, Harry?"

"I was fine until Malfoy showed up," Harry said. "Can you believe Zabini bought Cuttingly Court?"

"Blaise is nice enough," Luna told him. "He's been over to see dad a few times since he moved in. They're getting along really well."

"Blaise?" Harry asked, with a quirked eyebrow that made Luna frown.

"Nothing untoward is going on, Harry Potter, so you can take that look off your face."

Harry laughed and allowed Luna to swat at his arm. "I'm sorry."

"You should give Malfoy a chance too, you know," Luna said. "He's not all bad. You even spoke up for him at his trial."

"Pass," Harry said. "He has his friends, I have mine. It's worked out well for the last seven years. And, for that matter, the seven before that."

Luna simply shrugged and immediately turned the conversation to a discussion about the average height of a Blibbering Humdinger.

Hours passed. Harry danced with his friends and was drawn into a discussion with Blaise, who turned out to be quite erudite; not at all the smarmy Slytherin creep Harry had been expecting.

They stood near the back of the room, far enough away from the band that they could talk without having to raise their voices. Blaise appeared to be focused on the dancing, or at least, one dancer in particular. 

"So, you and Ginny," Blaise asked, after a while. "That's over, is it?" 

Harry nodded quickly. "Yes, yeah I… love her like a sister, but…"

"Not like a wife," Blaise finished and Harry nodded again, grateful. "Would you mind if I…?" He finally looked away from Ginny and faced Harry, saying seriously, "I'd like to ask her out."

"You would?" Harry asked, surprised. "You?"

Blaise laughed. "She's the most beautiful woman in the room, Harry. Surely you know that."

Harry couldn't help but agree. "But… I thought…"

"The Malfoys may have some issues with Weasleys," Blaise explained, exhibiting some awareness of Harry's discomfort. "But the Zabinis don't have any of those problems. It's been seven years, Harry. Draco might surprise you."

Harry laughed. “Not likely.”

The song ended and Blaise excused himself to ask Ginny for the next dance. 

"What was that about?" Ron asked, appearing at his side.

"I think you'd better get used to the idea of Zabini as your brother in law," Harry said, laughing harder when Ron groaned. "Hey, it could be worse."

"Yeah, yeah," Ron muttered. "It could be Malfoy."

\---

"Sweet Merlin," Pansy said, collapsing onto the sofa in the small salon as soon as they Apparated back to Cuttingly Court. "That was incredibly tedious. So many Weasleys."

Draco snorted and moved swiftly to pour himself a glass of firewhiskey.

"I like them," Blaise said. "I don't understand what you two have against them. I think they're charming."

"Ginny is charming," Pansy allowed, holding out her hand to Draco until he pushed the glass into it and poured himself another. "The rest of them are quite savage."

"Pansy, you're ridiculous," Blaise laughed. "I talked with all of them. Even Ron and Hermione were decent to me and they have less reason to be than any of them, as far as I can see."

Draco set the decanter down with a little more force than necessary. Blaise ignored him.

"It wouldn't kill you to try being nicer to them," Blaise said.

"It might," Draco muttered, swallowing a whole three fingers of whiskey in one mouthful.

"Luna Lovegood actually told me that Harry was one of the best looking wizards of our generation," Pansy said, sounding horrified at the thought. "Potter. Can you imagine?"

"Luna Lovegood is nuttier than a fruitcake," Draco snapped. "I'm going to bed."

"Fine," Blaise said, but stopped Draco just as he neared the door, adding, "we're visiting the Lovegoods' tomorrow. All of us. And so are the Weasleys and Harry. You're both going to be on your best behaviour, you hear me?"

Draco responded by slamming the door behind him as he all but flounced from the room.

Fucking Potter.

\---

Truthfully, Draco liked Luna Lovegood, and it was his fondness for her, coupled with her continued kindness towards him (despite having been locked in his family's cellar by a raving psychopath) that prevented him from kicking up a fuss about the party. She might be a little bit bonkers, and clearly needed her eyes testing, but Luna could always see the best in people and in that dark time after the war, she had been a beacon of light and goodness, helping Draco find his way.

She had written to Draco while he served his year in Azkaban, at first in response to Draco's own letter apologising for what had happened to her, and later simply because she wanted him to have a friend. He'd left prison determined to be a better person and make a better life for himself and his mother, and Luna had helped him stay on the right track, even when it seemed as though no one would ever see him as anything but a Death Eater.

He gave her a proper smile and hug when he arrived at the Lovegoods’, with Blaise and Pansy. Blaise disappeared after a quick hello, no doubt following Ginny Weasley's musical laughter, while Pansy hurried away to find the wine.

"You look thin," Luna said, patting Draco's cheek in far too motherly a way for someone a year younger than him. "Would you like some cake?"

"What kind of cake?" Draco asked suspiciously, thinking he'd been tricked by her before. Green Tea was barely a real kind of tea, never mind a cake flavouring.

"Chocolate," Luna said, tugging Draco's hand to lead him upstairs into the throng of Weasleys. And Potter, of course.

Pansy, bless her heart, handed him a glass of red wine, and Luna cut him a slice of chocolate cake. Draco started to think he might be able to survive the evening after all.

"I'd be careful if I were you," Potter murmured against his ear, startling Draco when he appeared at his side, as if from nowhere. He was standing a little too close for Draco's comfort.

"Excuse me?"

"The cake," Potter said, eyeing the plate in Draco's hand with trepidation. "There are chilli flakes mixed in with the chocolate. Hermione thinks it's delicious. I think it's ruining two perfectly good types of food."

Draco stared at Potter, sure he must have slipped into a strange alternate universe, where they had reasonable conversations about reasonable things. He knew he should say something, but he knew that everything that came to mind would sound pompous and pretentious when it left his mouth.

Potter waited a moment longer than Draco would have if someone was gaping at him like a petrified fish, and then shrugged, turning away and making it clear with one surprisingly elegant turn of his head exactly what he thought about Draco and his manners. Draco closed his eyes and stifled a sigh of his own. His mother would be furious if she ever found out.

"What was that all about, darling?" Pansy asked, resting her chin on his shoulder as he watched Potter move to join Ginny and Blaise on the other side of the room. "Aren't you going to eat your cake?"

Draco handed Pansy the plate, ignoring the obscene sounds she made as she devoured it. Potter must have been wrong about the cake. Since when had Draco trusted his judgement on anything requiring taste?

"I was thinking," Draco said, taking a long overdue sip of his wine, "that Potter really does have the most incredible eyes."

He spent the next ten minutes making sure Pansy wasn't choking on the cake.

\---

The next day, while George and Harry nursed their hangovers with extra helpings of bacon and eggs, Ginny received a letter. The owl that delivered it tapped twice on the window and waited patiently for someone to open it and allow him to swoop in and deposit the letter next to Ginny's breakfast plate, then took off again before she could even reward him with a treat.

The emerald green seal had fixed everyone's attention, but Ginny left the letter where it was and went back to buttering her toast. The only outward sign that she was a little flustered, as far as Harry could see, was a slight blush on her cheeks.

"Ginny, dear," Molly said, slapping the back of George's hand when he reached out to grab the letter himself. "Don't you want to open your letter?"

"I can do it when I'm done eating, mum," Ginny said. "It's not urgent, or the bird would have waited for a reply."

This was true, but Harry at least was practically bursting with curiosity, and he silently dared George to make another grab for it.

He didn't need to worry though, as Molly's impatience snapped seconds later and she tore open the letter, waving down Ginny's protests. "It's from Pansy Parkinson."

Everyone at the table appeared to deflate.

"She wants you to dine with her tonight. Blaise and…" Molly cleared her throat. "Well, the boys will be out."

Ginny smiled and turned to her father. "Can you take me, dad? I'm still feeling a bit sickly from the flu."

Arthur nodded, but it was Molly who answered.

"You can go on your broom."

"My broom?" Ginny exclaimed, clearly confused. "In dinner robes? Mum…"

"Mum, you can't be serious," George protested. "Two miles on a broom before a fancy dinner?"

"With Pansy Parkinson," Harry added, imagining the kinds of things Pansy would say if Ginny turned up looking less than her best.

"Yes," Molly answered them, standing as she began to clear away the dishes. "It's going to rain. You'll have to stay the night there, darling."

Ginny stared at her mother open mouthed. George started to laugh.

"I know what you're thinking, Harry," Mr Weasley whispered, clearly spotting the look of horror on his face. "And, yes. She's always been that diabolical."

\---

Rain, it turned out, was putting it mildly. The storm that raged through the night continued well into Sunday morning, left several trees around the Burrow uprooted and left Harry sitting nervously by the window in his room, wondering if Ginny was alright.

George, Percy and Ron all disappeared for the day, so when finally, around lunchtime, an owl arrived from Cuttingly Court, Harry was the only one around to receive it.

"Mrs Weasley," he called out, turning the letter over and over in his hands. "Mr Weasley. There's a letter." He waited what he considered to be an appropriate amount of time and then tore into the letter, in case it was urgent.

In her quill’s perfect penmanship, Ginny had written that her cold had returned, even worse than it had been, and that she'd be staying at Cuttingly until the course of potions had cleared it up fully. Blaise had apparently insisted.

"What's that Harry dear?" Mrs Weasley asked as she bustled into the room. "Did you shout?"

He handed over the letter and tried not to frown when Molly grinned. "That's a bit of luck."

"She's ill," Harry pointed out, but it fell on deaf ears. "I should go to her."

"Don't be silly, Harry," Molly said. "It's just a cold. Blaise is more than capable of looking after her."

Harry imagined Ginny, sick and all alone except for Zabini, Parkinson and Malfoy. "I'm going."

Molly continued to protest as Harry packed a few things for himself and Ginny. "You can't Apparate in this wind, Harry. Nor can you fly. Please think."

"I can walk," Harry said, pulling on some old robes over his jeans and jumper. "It's only two miles."

"Two miles, through muddy fields? Harry Potter, you'll not be fit to be seen."

Harry smiled and hugged Molly in the doorway. "Malfoy will be disappointed if I don't arrive looking absolutely savage. You know how I hate to disappoint a fan."

Molly laughed and Harry took the opportunity to slip away. "I'll be back with Ginny in a couple of days. I'll send an owl if I have any news."

The wind was bracing, the fields were muddy, and Harry knew he was dishevelled and caked with dirt after only ten minutes. The exercise cheered his mood considerably and by the time Cuttingly Court came into view, Harry was laughing to himself as he imagined the look of horror on Malfoy's face when he saw the state of him.

He tried to spell as much of the mud off his boots as he could when he reached the door, leaning on the bell to announce himself. Almost instantly the door was thrown open before he could move onto his robes, and he found himself looking down at a fairly annoyed-looking house elf. Harry was reminded of Kreacher and allowed himself a small smile, thinking it was probably time to go home to Grimmauld Place. As much as he loved staying with the Weasleys, he missed the peace and quiet his own home provided. And if truth be told, Kreacher's meat pies were a little bit better than Molly's. He'd go home, he determined, just as soon as Ginny was well and safely back in her own home.

The house elf led Harry inside and asked him to wait in the hall while he spoke to Zabini. Harry nodded and took the opportunity to look around the room, which seemed bigger than the Burrow, even though it was just an entrance hall. He chuckled to himself again, shaking his head as he turned on the spot. Unbelievable. Why would anyone need this much space?

"Good Lord, Potter, what the hell are you wearing?"

Harry spun back to face the staircase. Malfoy was standing halfway up, staring at Harry with exactly the look of contempt Harry had imagined. It made Harry grin and he waved cheerfully. There was really nothing better than putting Malfoy's back up. It possibly even beat Quidditch as Harry's favourite sport.

"Hullo, Malfoy," he said, looking down at himself and the puddle of mud which had dripped off the bottom of his robes. "I'm here to see Ginny. How is she?"

Malfoy looked stunned for a moment, then started walking slowly down the stairs towards him. "She has a cold, Potter. She's not dying. What did you think you could do?"

Harry shrugged. "Sit with her. Keep her company."

Malfoy pursed his lips. "Blaise is doing that. You're not needed."

"But I may be wanted. Blaise can't sit with her all the time and I'm better company that you or Pansy."

Malfoy looked like he wanted to argue that point, but the door the house elf had disappeared through was suddenly flung open and Blaise strode out, smiling widely. "Harry! It's a pleasure to see you. Come to check on Ginny? Poor thing. Come on, come on, I'll take you up. Verdish, can you take Mr Potter's robe and clean it?"

The house elf hurried forward and took Harry's robe and bag.

"You can have one of the rooms near Ginny," Blaise told him, nodding thoughtfully as he began walking across the room. "The Gold Room will do nicely, Verdish. It reminds me of Gryffindor for some reason." He winked at Harry, ignoring Malfoy, who was coughing something that sounded suspiciously like "gaudy" into his fist.

"Draco, make yourself useful," Blaise called out, heading up the staircase. "Go and ask in the kitchen for some sandwiches. Harry looks starved."

"Well he walked," Malfoy replied, and Harry looked back at him, smiling when saw Malfoy narrow his eyes at him. "You do know you're a wizard, don't you, Potter?"

"You do know you have legs, don't you, Malfoy?" Harry shot back. "It's only a couple of miles."

"You're covered in dirt," Malfoy shouted as Harry reached the upstairs corridor and disappeared from sight.

Harry put Malfoy out of his mind as Blaise led him into Ginny's room, where she was bundled up in bed, looking exhausted. Her eyes and nose were red and, she looked so miserable, Harry immediately ran over to hug her.

"What's all this?" he asked, as she hugged him tight, coughing into his shoulder. "Lying around in bed all day?"

Ginny smiled as she lay back against the pillows. Blaise retreated quietly from the room and closed the door.

"Oh Merlin," she said. "What must he think of me? Showing up in such a state for dinner and then fainting. I'm surprised Pansy bothered to revive me. I'd have just left me there, to drown in my soup, and finished my meal." She gripped Harry's hand tightly with one of hers and coughed into the other one. "She's been lovely though. And Blaise. I haven't seen Malfoy, but I haven't heard any ranting about red-haired weasels so I think he's trying to be nice too." She sneezed twice, closed her eyes and groaned. "I'm really glad you came, Harry. Thank you."

"As if I'd leave you to the three of them," Harry said. "Though I think it's clear that Blaise wouldn't mind."

"Do you think so?" Ginny asked, forcing her eyes open. "I think he's wonderful."

"I have to admit, he's nicer than I thought he'd be. But do you really think you could stand to spend all your free time with Malfoy?"

"He doesn't live here," Ginny said. "He's just visiting. But yes, actually, I think I could put up with Malfoy for Blaise."

He shook his head, but smiled fondly at her. "Then it must be love."

\---

Harry spent the rest of the afternoon with Ginny, talking and reading to her until she fell asleep. He kissed her head and pulled the blankets up around her, then went in search of his bedroom.

The Gold Room was three doors down the corridor from Ginny and similarly sized, but as the name suggested, the furnishings were all the same golden colour that adorned the Gryffindor crest. Harry snorted with amusement. Without the deep red to off-set it, the room did look a little gaudy. He grinned, imagining the look of bewilderment on Malfoy’s face if Harry admitted he agreed with him.

Harry cleaned himself up, put on some smarter clothes and went out in search of Blaise.

The house elves were in the dining room and shooed him away so they could lay the table for the evening meal. The study and what Harry thought to be the billiard room were both empty, as were the salon, sitting room and drawing room.

"Too many rooms," Harry muttered to himself, peeking around the door to the huge ballroom that led out onto a pretty terrace, and from there down to the gardens. The weather outside had cleared up considerably.

The last room he came to was the library and at first glance it appeared to be empty, but there was a fire roaring away in the hearth, and a pot of tea, cup and saucer, sitting on a side table next to one of the wingback chairs.

"In or out, Potter," Malfoy drawled, making Harry jump. "Don't loiter in the doorway, you're letting all the heat out."

Harry stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. "You should have worked harder on your heating charms," he said, though he could feel the cosy warmth of heating charms combined with the fire, bouncing off the walls.

The library was a lovely, compact room, that reminded Harry again of Grimmauld Place. The walls were lined with tall shelves, crammed with books, fewer than there had been in the study, but these ones looked well-read and well-loved. Harry wondered if they were Blaise's books, or if they'd come with the house. There were two reasonably-sized arched windows opposite the door, which looked out over what Harry thought might be a croquet pitch. The woods behind that meant the library candles were lit at all times, since there wasn't as much sunlight here as in other parts of the house. The curtains and hearth rug were a deep shade of red that almost appeared black. Harry loved it.

"Are you going to sit down?" Malfoy asked, snapping Harry's attention back to him. He was sitting, Harry could see now, with his back to the door, long legs stretched out towards the fire. He peered at Harry over the top of the book he was reading. "Or are you just going to flutter about like a snitch, and disturb my peace?"

Harry considered that disturbing Malfoy's peace seemed a pleasant way to spend an afternoon, but he'd promised Ginny he'd be on his best behaviour, so he spent a few minutes picking out a book, and then sat down in the chair on the other side of the fire.

They sat reading together, no sound between them except the rustle of pages turning and the crackle of the fire. Harry lost himself in Alice's adventures, a book he'd read when he was much younger, when the Dursley's had handed it to him as a Christmas present. Dudley had received it the year before, but hated reading and never touched it. He wondered where that copy was now — on a shelf somewhere at home, maybe. Or else it had been cleared out of Privet Drive when the Dursleys had left.

"Would you like some tea?" Malfoy asked, startling Harry, who jumped slightly.

Malfoy was pouring two cups of tea already, his face slightly reddened, as though he was blushing. Harry thought it must have been the heat from the fire. His own face felt warm too.

"Yes, thank you," Harry answered politely. Malfoy lifted the sugar tongs and glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. "One, please."

Malfoy huffed slightly, but dropped a sugar cube into Harry's teacup and passed it to him, then picked up his own cup, which remained sugar free.

"What are you reading?" Harry asked, inhaling the sweet smell of the steam rising from the cup.

Malfoy looked surprised. "Great Expectations," he said, before taking a sip of his tea.

"You like Dickens?" Harry asked, with a surprised laugh.

"You don't have to sound so surprised, Potter," Malfoy said primly. "I do read."

"Muggle literature though," Harry said. "I'd have thought…"

"That's your whole problem isn't it, Potter?" Malfoy snapped. "You think you know all about me. Well you don't."

"Alright," Harry said carefully. "I haven't read Great Expectations. Is it good?"

For a moment it looked like Malfoy wouldn't answer. "Yes," he said nodding. "It's very good."

Harry smiled, feeling a strange sense of relief.

"What are you reading?" Malfoy asked politely, eyes flicking to the book resting in Harry's lap.

"Alice in Wonderland," Harry said, holding up the book, so Malfoy could see it better. "Do you know it?"

"No," Malfoy said. "Should I?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know. But you should try it. It's more lighthearted than Dickens."

Malfoy's lips twitched up in the beginnings of a smile. "I like reading about people whose lives are more messed up than mine."

"Definitely try this one then," Harry said with a grin. "And maybe Wuthering Heights."

Malfoy did laugh at that. "I've read that one. That one made my whole family seem well-adjusted."

Harry joined in the laughter and, that was how Blaise found them a few minutes later.

"I must be hallucinating," he said from the doorway. "Or are you both cursed?"

Harry shook his head and set his book down on the table. "I should really go and check on Ginny before dinner."

Blaise nodded and stood to one side to let Harry through. "Thirty minutes."

Harry thanked him and hurried upstairs to see Ginny. Maybe, he thought, the next few days wouldn't be so awful after all.

\---

Over dinner, Harry decided that he liked Blaise Zabini very much, and wondered if Blaise had always been this charming, and it was only the animosity between Gryffindors and Slytherins — and more specifically, between Harry and Malfoy — that had stopped him noticing while they were at school.

Blaise drew him into a lengthy conversation about Quidditch, while Malfoy and Parkinson sat and ate their food in near silence. Once or twice he thought he saw Malfoy watching him out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned his head, Malfoy was watching his plate with deep concentration. 

“Do you still play much, Harry?” Blaise asked. “I find it impossible to get out more than once a month now. I’ve been trying to convince Draco to build a Quidditch pitch at the Manor, but he keeps refusing.”

“It’s not really worth it when only you, me and Greg would be playing,” Malfoy pointed out. “Pansy, would you like to play?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling.”

“Didn’t think so.”

Blaise shook his head at his friends. “Potter could join us.”

“Oh yes,” Mafoy drawled, “I’m sure he’d love to come and visit. Don’t worry, Potter, we’ve redecorated since you were there last.”

Everyone fell silent and Harry squirmed a little, uncomfortable. Blaise was shooting Malfoy a deadly look, while Malfoy was back to regarding his food, as though it held the answers to life, the universe and everything.

Malfoy excused himself, a few moments later, murmuring that he needed to finish writing a letter. As soon as the door closed behind him, Parkinson glared at Harry and said, “He’s changed, you know. It’s all your fault.”

Harry didn’t doubt there had been a change in Malfoy. War did that to a person and prison couldn’t have been easy for him either. But he wasn’t going to take the blame for Malfoy’s own bad decisions.

“And how are you, Pansy, after all this time?” he asked. “Last time I saw you, you were offering Voldemort my head on a platter.”

He heard Blaise choke on a laugh, but he kept his eyes locked on Parkinson’s until she blinked. 

“Touche, Potter,” she said, raising her glass to him. “You might not be completely hopeless after all.”

\---

The next morning dawned bright and beautiful, and Draco found himself eating breakfast with Pansy on the terrace at a disgustingly early hour.

Dinner the previous evening had been a strange affair, to say nothing of the hours before dinner he'd spent with Potter in the library in an oddly companionable silence. He'd found himself watching Potter as discretely as possible while he read, his own book serving only as a shield while he took in the expressions flitting across Potter's face. It was a far more interesting face than he'd ever given it credit for. The bump on Potter's nose made him wince, remembering how he'd given it to him, but it didn't detract from the fact that Potter was actually quite handsome from some angles. And when he wasn't talking.

He’d embarrassed himself mentioning the Manor during dinner and he’d placed every locking charm he could think of on the library door after dinner to keep the others out. Pansy had come by an hour later and knocked loudly for a good five minutes, shouting that she needed to talk to him. Draco had ignored her until she’d gone and left him in peace.

Now, however, as he sat reading the paper while she munched on some toast, he realised he'd made the error of believing she'd let the subject drop.

"What on earth was Potter thinking?" she said, apropos of nothing. "Tramping all over the countryside. Blaise said he was covered in mud. He must have looked quite wild."

Draco turned the page of the newspaper and said nothing.

Pansy's eyes narrowed. "You saw him when he arrived didn't you? Did his eyes still look incredible against all that muck?"

"Naturally," Draco said, with an elegant sniff his mother had been using for years to warn people away from dangerous conversations. "They were brightened by the exercise." Pansy's teacup hit her saucer with a clatter and Draco looked up at her finally, a sly smile curling his lips. "Is something wrong, darling?"

She opened her mouth to let fly what Draco was sure was going to be an interesting ten minutes worth of vitriol, when a polite cough from the patio doors made them both freeze.

"Sorry," Potter said, and Draco briefly wondered how much he'd heard and whether he'd be able to Obliviate both Potter and Pansy before Potter could disarm him. "I just wanted to fetch Ginny some breakfast."

"The house elves would have done that," Pansy said, in a tone that indicated she was talking to a particularly dimwitted person. Harry looked abashed.

Draco stood, folding his newspaper and setting it on his chair. "I'll show you to the kitchen, Potter."

Pansy started to laugh, which Draco ignored. Thankfully Potter looked mostly bewildered.

"I should have thought of the house elves," Potter said as they walked through the house. "I'm just so used to doing things for myself."

"Which Pansy is not," Draco said. "Don't worry, Potter. You're not committing any great social faux-pas."

"I don't mean to get in the way of your time together. I'll be spending the rest of the day with Ginny…" Potter came to a halt, finally noticing that Draco had stopped walking several paces before him.

"Our time together?" Draco repeated back. "Are you…?" Draco frowned, unsure why it felt quite so important to clear this up. "Are you under the impression that I'm seeing Pansy?"

"Aren't you?" Potter asked, sounding oddly curious. "Haven't you always been?"

Draco ignored the second question, but hurried to answer the first. "Pansy isn't really my type," he said. "I prefer…"

"Blondes?" Harry laughed, clearly hoping to lighten the mood.

"Men," Draco said seriously. This time it was Harry who stood gaping. "The kitchen is down there on the left," Draco said quickly, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. "You can't miss it." With that, Draco spun on his heel and marched away before Harry could stop him.

\---

Harry had intended to spend the whole day with Ginny, but Blaise arrived after breakfast and asked if Ginny felt up to sitting with him in the garden for a couple of hours. The look of joy that appeared on her face was Blaise's answer and Harry helped her get settled, before leaving them to it.

More than anything he wanted to find Malfoy and apologise for what had happened that morning. Of course, he wasn’t even sure how to apologise. Somehow he doubted “Sorry, I always assumed you would marry Pansy and have a litter of blonde, pug-nosed children” counted as an apology.

He headed for the library, hoping to find Malfoy and clear it up as quickly as possible, but the room was empty. Not wanting to disturb Malfoy if he was in his rooms, and having no idea where else he could be at that moment, Harry settled back down in his chair, picked up Alice in Wonderland, and went back to reading. He hoped that at some point Malfoy would show up and at least listen to his apology.

It was five hours and two pots of tea later when the door clicked open and brought Harry's head up out of a collection of Sherlock Holmes stories, and face-to-face with Malfoy, who looked ready to bolt.

"Please," Harry said, quickly, "won't you join me? I've been hoping you would." Malfoy looked as uncomfortable as he had that morning, but he wasn't running away so Harry remained hopeful. "Would you like some tea?"

Malfoy's back straightened, his shoulders forcibly relaxed and he inclined his head once, taking the seat opposite Harry. Harry busied himself pouring the tea, remembering that Malfoy didn't take sugar, and as soon as the cup was in Malfoy's hand, he blurted out, "I'm sorry."

"Whatever for, Potter?" Malfoy asked. His face contorted into an almost-sneer, but Harry recognised that look. Malfoy was bracing himself for an attack.

Harry leaned forward in his seat, trying to make himself look as non-threatening as he could. "This morning. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable and I promise not to tell anyone."

Malfoy was watching him with a different look on his face now, one Harry couldn't read at all. "It's not a secret, Potter," Malfoy said slowly. "I'm not ashamed. At least on that point the Wizarding World has also been far more accepting than the Muggle one."

Well, that was true. When he'd admitted to Ron and Hermione that he thought he might be less than a hundred percent straight, Hermione had thrown her arms around him and told him everything would be alright, while Ron had blinked and picked up another cream bun.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Hermione had hissed at Ron.

Ron had shrugged and said around a mouthful of jam and cream, "So?"

Now, as he watched Malfoy sip his tea, he thought it was important that Malfoy should know the truth.

"I do too," he said, hiding a smile when Malfoy choked on the tea.

"Why are you telling me this?" Malfoy asked, looking at Harry again as if he had two heads.

"Fair's fair," Harry said. "You told me something about yourself. I told you something about myself. It’s how normal people get to know each other.”

Malfoy seemed to contemplate this for a long moment and then, without a word, reached across to pick up Great Expectations from where he'd left it the previous evening. Harry smiled and settled back in his chair, ready to carry on with Sherlock Holmes and feeling much more relaxed.

\---

The following day, Ginny pronounced herself well enough to go home and though Blaise tried to protest, a quick firecall with the local Medi-wizard confirmed that she could leave, so long as it was in a carriage. Blaise immediately called for his and asked that he be allowed to drive Ginny home. Harry stood watching the whole scene feeling at once amused and superfluous. Leaving Ginny and Blaise hand in hand, waiting for the carriage, Harry backed away into the drawing room until he was needed.

"Is she alright?"

Malfoy's voice made him turn, and he saw Malfoy lounging — there was no other word for it — in the window seat, looking thoroughly at ease.

"Wha'?" Harry said eloquently.

Malfoy smiled, not unkindly, as he gestured towards the door Harry had just entered. "Miss Weasley. Is she all better now?"

"Apparently," Harry said. "We'll get out of your hair now."

Malfoy hummed, in what might have been agreement.

"I'll miss the library," Harry said, more for something to say, but he realised it was true.

"You should come back and use it," Malfoy said and then looked away quickly, clearing his throat, as though he hadn't meant to say that at all.

Harry smiled, unwilling to jeopardise the fragile peace between them by saying anything else.


	2. Chapter 2

The invitation arrived at the Burrow the same day Theo Nott did, both of which stalled Harry's plans of returning to London.

Ginny was dozing under a blanket on the sofa, while Harry sat in a chair nearby with a book. They were both half listening to the radio that Molly had on in the kitchen while she did the washing up.

"Goodness gracious!" Molly exclaimed, startling them both to attention.

"Mum?" Ginny yelled, only a step behind Harry as they barrelled around the corner into the kitchen.

They stopped short at the sight of Molly waving Theo inside and hugging him tight. He seemed to dwarf Molly, being a full foot taller than her, broad shoulders and arms surrounding her, lifting her off her feet. 

"I hope I'm not imposing," Theo said, laughing as Ginny launched herself at him. "Hello, princess."

Harry grinned and crossed the room to hug Theo when Ginny was deposited back on her feet. "I thought you were in France."

"I just got back," Theo said. "Thought I'd come and visit since I missed the engagement party."

"You were missed," Molly said, patting his cheek. "Would you like a slice of cake?"

They settled around the kitchen table with tea and the remains of the engagement cake, while Theo filled them in on his travels around the continent.

It had been six months after Voldemort's defeat that Theo had first approached Harry. The day had been dark and the air close; black clouds rolled overhead, threatening rain but never delivering, making everyone bustling around Diagon Alley uncomfortable. Harry and Ron had been helping George out at the shop, trying to get things organised for a grand re-opening, when Theo had arrived in the doorway with a shy smile, a nervous laugh, and a desire to make amends. Harry had listened to Theo's halting apologies politely, but remained suspicious of his motives.

But then Theo had returned the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that. And the next day Ron had told him to pick up a couple of boxes and give them a hand. Theo had helped them all day, without complaint and Harry had grudgingly invited him to join them at the Leaky Cauldron for a drink afterwards.

Theo had been a regular feature in their lives after that. He'd helped George at the shop, he'd talked politics with Hermione in the pub, he'd played Quidditch with the whole Weasley clan at Molly and Arthur's wedding anniversary party. He was friendly and fun and slowly but surely Harry found that Theo had become a close friend. The only person who didn’t like Theo, actually, was Kreacher, but Harry had hopes that eventually he'd come around.

There had been a time, after the first wave of suspicion had eased, that Harry had had what could only be described as a crush on Theo. He was so easy to talk to, so willing to listen and never judge. They'd come very close at one point, to letting whatever it was happen between them, but as appealing as a drunken snog had been at the time, in the harsh light of day Harry had decided he'd rather keep his friend. Theo hadn't said much in response to Harry's stumbling excuses, but nothing changed between them, so Theo must have felt the same way.

"So tell me what's been going on here," Theo said, when he finished recounting a story about horse-riding in the Mont Saint Michel bay.

"Nothing that exciting," Harry said around a mouthful of cake. "Just the engagement party. Oh and Zabini, moving in next door."

"What?" Theo laughed, looking from Harry, to Ginny, to Molly. "Blaise Zabini?"

"That's right," Ginny nodded. "He bought Cuttingly Court last month and moved in a couple of weeks ago. He's wonderful."

Theo raised an eyebrow at Harry, who nodded his agreement.

"He is rather dreamy," Harry sighed, though it faded to laughter when Ginny kicked him under the table. "Ow!"

"You're just bitter that you've had to spend so much time with Malfoy," Ginny said, and held out her cup for a refill.

Theo choked on the last of his tea. "Malfoy? Draco Malfoy?"

"The one and only," Harry said. "You should go over there and catch up. Parkinson's there too."

"I don't really think I'd be welcome," Theo said, ducking his head. "Molly could I possibly have another slice of that delicious cake?"

Molly cut him another huge piece and refilled his cup.

"I thought you were mates," Harry said, glancing at Theo curiously. It wasn’t like him to under-embellish any story.

"We were," Theo agreed. "Sort of. As much as anyone can be friends with Draco Malfoy."

Harry and Ginny both laughed, but it was Molly who spoke, staring at Theo with a shrewd look on her face. "Did he do something to you, Theo? During the war?"

"I'd really rather not talk about it," Theo said. "Tell me about the wedding plans, Molly."

They launched into a discussion for another hour until Molly got up to start making lunch, and Ginny retreated to the sofa for a nap.

"Walk?" Harry asked, and Theo readily agreed. They headed down towards the river, chatting happily about France, about the forthcoming wedding, about Harry's job and Theo's burgeoning relationship with Millicent Bulstrode.

"She's a lovely girl," Theo told him as they settled down on the riverside in the shade of Harry's favourite beech tree. "You didn't get to know her at school, but she's very sweet. Clever. Thoughtful."

"So not like your average Slytherin then," Harry said with a grin and laughed when Theo punched his arm.

"We're not all Death Eaters," Theo shot back and Harry winced.

"I know," he said, and then because curiosity was getting the better of him, asked, "What did Malfoy do to you?"

Theo sat silently for a moment, tearing up blades of grass and letting them fall through his fingers. "The summer after sixth year, do you remember? My father and I wanted to leave the country. We didn't want to have any part of Voldemort's plans. We knew a war was coming and we wanted to escape."

Harry nodded encouragingly. After the first few days they'd spent together, Theo had never talked about his part in the war and Harry had never asked. He'd proven himself a good friend since then.

"I went to Draco. I asked him for help. I told him we wanted to get out and I asked him for some money... for anything that might help us."

It wasn't exactly a surprise, Harry thought. He'd always known what Malfoy was and since he hadn't been able to escape himself, there was no reason for him to help his friends. There was a voice in the back of his head however, reminding him of what he'd seen of Malfoy at the Manor during that time. How broken he'd been. He was afraid, the voice whispered. With good reason.

"Maybe he's different now," Theo said, when Harry reached out and grasped his hand, giving it a friendly squeeze. "He could be. But I still doubt he'd want to see me. Blaise and Pansy... well, they can't remind him of the war really. They were shielded from it. Only those of us that were there knew what really happened. And I think I'd be too much of a reminder for Draco."

They sat there a while longer in silence, until Harry tried to ease some of the tension hanging in the air with talk of happier things. Eventually they rose to their feet and began to walk back to the Burrow together, just in time for lunch.

Halfway up the garden path, they were greeted by the sound of Molly and Ginny squealing excitedly, and as soon as they stepped into the house, Ginny pounced on Harry, waving a letter.

"A ball!" she said, pushing the letter into Harry's hands. "Blaise is having a ball at Cuttingly this weekend. We're all invited."

"You'll stay a few more days, won't you, Harry dear?" Molly asked. "And Theo, you're welcome to have Percy's room."

"This is for you, isn't it?" Harry asked Ginny, taking her aside while Theo helped Molly lay the table. "This ball."

"No," Ginny said, but blushed to the roots of her hair. "Shut up. Do you think so?"

Harry nodded. "I do. He's smitten."

Ginny took the invitation back and read it again, then hugged it to her chest. "I'm going to write back and accept."

"What about lunch?" Harry said, looking back at the mountain of sandwiches Molly had prepared, as well as a huge dish of salad and quiche lorraine.

"I'm not hungry," Ginny said and danced away to write her letter. "Who could eat at a time like this?"

Harry sat down at the table and started to pile food onto his plate, thinking that he could never imagine being so excited to talk to someone that he missed a meal.

\---

The sun was just setting when the Weasleys, Hermione and Harry arrived at Cuttingly Court for the ball. Torches lined the garden paths and the stairs to the house, giving the house and gardens a warm, inviting glow.

"Are you sure about this?" Ron asked Hermione as they followed Harry and Ginny up the steps to the house. "We don't have to go in there. We could go to the pub."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ronald, look at my dress. I am not wasting this dress in the pub. It's going to be fine."

Harry and Ginny shared a grin. "Do I look alright, Harry? The dress? Is it too much? Not enough?"

"You look beautiful," Harry said. "Blaise isn't going to know what hit him."

Blaise and Pansy stood at the bottom of the grand staircase, greeting their guests as they filtered in. Blaise looked happy and relaxed, while Pansy looked smug and self-important. Harry relaxed slightly at the sense of familiarity. They could have been back at Hogwarts and attending the Yule Ball.

Harry left Ginny with Blaise, who looked suitably delighted that she'd arrived, and followed Ron and Hermione to the ballroom. The candles floating around the edge of the room and the ceiling, which resembled the starry night's sky, immediately turned Harry's thoughts to Hogwarts. He was momentarily thrown back in time to the first ball he'd attended and thought that the passing of eleven years had done little to improve his enjoyment of large social functions. Ron, at least, seemed happier this time, wearing smart dress robes, and he had Hermione on his arm. They swept onto the dance floor before Harry had time to mention getting a drink.

Feeling like a third-wheel and utter idiot, Harry looked around for anyone he knew. His attempts to snatch a glass of champagne from one of the silver trays, floating around the room were thwarted several times by Ministry officials, all wanting to shake his hand, and more importantly, to be seen shaking his hand. It could have amused Harry if it hadn't made him so uncomfortable. As far as power and influence went, Harry considered himself to be at the bottom of the trainee Auror pile, holding himself to a higher standard than the others, because seven years preventing Voldemort's rise had given him rather an unfair advantage as far as training went. However, he wasn't naive enough to think that other people saw him the same way. What he said and what he did was reported heavily and debated by everyone. It was one of the many reasons he hated these types of parties.

Finally he made it through the crowd to a friendly face. Neville clapped him hard on the shoulder with a grin as Harry joined him. "Some party, eh?"

Harry looked longingly at the glass in Neville's hand. "Where did you get that?"

Neville nodded at one of the trays as it passed close to them and Harry reached out only find his hand gripped by Seamus Finnegan. "Harry, mate," Seamus laughed. "It's been ages."

Harry grinned and relaxed, falling easily into conversation with Neville, Seamus and Dean who joined them moments later. It felt like old times.

An hour later Dean and Seamus were arguing good-naturedly about football, and Neville's eyes were fixed on a spot over Harry's shoulder.

"Hannah's looking gorgeous, isn't she?"

Harry glanced over at Hannah, who did indeed look beautiful in her gold silk frock. "I thought you and Luna were…." He trailed off when Luna appeared at his side, as though summoned by the very mention of her name.

"We were," she said, answering the question Harry hadn't voiced and smiling fondly at Neville, who gave her a cheeky wink. "And now we're not."

Neville excused himself and headed towards Hannah. Luna tucked her hand into Harry's elbow and drew him away towards the terrace.

"Are you enjoying the party?" she asked as they stepped out into the fresh air.

Harry shrugged. "It's nice seeing my friends," he told her. "I wish Theo could have been here though."

"Theo?" Luna said, sounding surprised. "Is he back?"

Harry nodded. "He got back a couple of days ago. He didn't want to see Malfoy. Not that I can blame him."

Luna looked as disapproving as she ever got. "You should give Draco a chance, Harry. He's not…" She stopped suddenly, her mouth snapping shut, and she stepped away. "Hello, Draco," she said brightly.

Harry turned to see Malfoy leaning against the frame of the open French windows. His smart black dress robes were perfectly tailored to his frame, making him look effortlessly elegant in a way Harry could never hope to emulate.

"Luna," Draco drawled, but he was watching Harry, who could feel his face heating up under the oddly intent gaze. "I believe you agreed to dance the next with me."

Harry thought, not for the first time, that Malfoy's education prior to Hogwarts must have included lessons on how to form sentences designed to make other people feel inferior.

Luna seemed not to notice, nor care, and she laughed, dancing past Harry and into Malfoy's waiting arms.

"Potter," said Malfoy, stiffly.

"Malfoy," Harry said with a small nod.

They disappeared back into the crowd and Harry blew out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He allowed himself ten minutes of freedom, enjoying the peace and quiet of the terrace, then braved the ballroom again in search of that still elusive drink. He caught sight of Malfoy and Luna spinning gracefully around the room and thought that champagne probably wasn't going to cut it.

He was stopped again, several times, by fellow Aurors, old school friends and well-wishers, but had finally reached the door, ready to make his escape, when he found his way blocked by Pansy Parkinson.

"Parkinson," he said as he forced his face into some semblance of a smile. "Lovely party."

"Potter," Pansy said, "let's not pretend we like each other. I'm not here to make small talk."

Harry blinked, surprised and yet wholly unsurprised by her bluntness, and waited silently for her to continue.

"Ginny was telling me that Theo Nott is staying with you," she said, her voice low and dangerous, as though she was spitting the words out. "I'm going to say this for your own good. Stay away from him."

"I don't think you get any say in who my friends are," Harry snapped back. "Theo is..."

"Dangerous," Pansy interrupted. "And a liar. Don't trust him."

"But I should trust you?" Harry scoffed.

"Yes," Pansy said. "I know him better than you do."

Harry stepped around her, not wanting to hear anymore. "I can judge for myself, thanks."

He left her standing in the doorway to the ballroom and felt her watching him until he turned the corner in the hallway.

His face felt stiff from the forced smiles and laughter, and he rubbed his jaw as he hurried away, slipping into the empty library with a sigh of relief.

He lit the fire and the candles with a flick of his wand. Another flick summoned the brandy from the sideboard and he settled into his chair.

He was a third of the way through Great Expectations when the door opened and the sound of laughter and excited voices floated into the room, preceding a slightly dishevelled looking Malfoy.

"Brandy?" Harry offered, lips quirked in amusement. "You look like you could use a glass."

"You're an angel, Potter," Malfoy sighed, straightening his robes. "I've always thought so."

Harry chuckled and poured him a glass. Malfoy accepted it and slumped down into his usual seat, running a hand through his hair.

"It's been a while since I attended a party like this," Malfoy said, sipping from his glass. "I'd forgotten how tiring it can be."

"I thought you'd be in your element," Harry said. "You certainly looked comfortable dancing with Luna."

Malfoy smiled. "When you can get her to follow the correct steps, Luna's the perfect partner. It's the rest of them that are driving me mad. I don't know how you do it."

"Me?" Harry said. "I don't dance."

"Oh come on, Potter," Malfoy said. "I read the Prophet. You're at a different Ministry event every month."

"Usually I do this," Harry admitted. "One turn around the room. Couple of photos to keep everyone happy. Then I retreat to my desk and catch up on my paperwork."

Malfoy burst out laughing. "You do paperwork at parties?"

Harry shrugged and found himself grinning. "I prefer my parties to be smaller and more private. I don't really like public events. I have to be Harry Potter at public events."

"You are Harry Potter," Malfoy said, with a smirk.

"You know what I mean. I can't ever just be Harry at those kinds of events."

"Well, just Harry," Malfoy said and this time he smiled a real smile, which completely changed his face. He didn't look as sharp or superior. It was really quite a nice face. "Thanks for allowing me to share your alone time." He frowned suddenly. "That came out wrong."

Harry laughed softly. "That's alright. I don't mind being alone with you." He closed his eyes at Draco's raised eyebrow. "That also came out wrong."

They sat quietly together, drinking their brandies. Malfoy closed his eyes and rested his head against the chair-back. Harry found his attention torn between his book and the curve of Malfoy's neck, the way the candlelight flickered over his skin, the way his hair glowed in the firelight.

"Enjoying it?" Malfoy murmured, and for one terrible minute, Harry thought he'd been caught staring, but a quick glance told him Malfoy's eyes were still closed.

"Hmm?" was the best response Harry could manage.

"The book, Potter," Malfoy said, and Harry watched his mouth curve up into a smile, no doubt amused by Harry's obtuseness.

"Oh," Harry said, looking down at Great Expectations which lay open in his lap. He couldn't for the life of him remember where he was up to. "Yes, it's very good."

"I read Alice," Malfoy said, dragging his eyes open and fixing Harry with a serious gaze. "I can't go back to yesterday, because I was a different person then."

Harry could feel his heart beat faster, could feel a lump in his throat preventing him from asking the questions he suddenly needed answers to. Questions like "would you want to?" or "who are you now?" Questions about Lucius and Narcissa and Luna and Theo.

He finished the last of his brandy instead and quoted back, "If everybody minded their own business, the world would go around a great deal faster than it does."

He was rewarded with another smile, not as wide, but just as real. Then Malfoy closed his eyes again and Harry returned his attention to his book, feeling strangely as if he'd just won something precious.

\---

Harry returned to London the following evening, ready to get back to work on Monday morning. Kreacher fussed over him, as he always did when Harry was away from home for an extended period of time. He muttered under his breath about Harry's thoughtlessness, about how some warning might be nice, about fixing him food at the last minute and turning down Harry's bed, but Harry had learned that all of Kreacher's complaints were actually gestures of affection. It was similar to the way Molly treated Ron — or any of the Weasley children for that matter — when he descended unannounced and expected food and a warm comfortable bed.

Kreacher produced quite a feast for Harry's homecoming and Harry was content to sit in the kitchen, eating the mountain of food and listening to Kreacher's stories. When Kreacher had finally had enough of his company, he shooed Harry away to the living room to listen to the wireless, with a pot of tea and large slice of battenberg.

As much as he loved spending time with the Weasleys, there was nothing quite like being at home in his own house. He could hear Kreacher cleaning the pots and pans in the kitchen, the faint sounds of London traffic drifting through the windows. He had never felt lonely here, even though he was often alone. He'd always thought he had plenty of time to meet the right person and settle down. He was still young after all, and the first eighteen years of his life had been ninety percent horror, eight percent confusion and two percent joy. He wanted to have a few years where the joy took up the ninety percent before he thought about the future.

He threw himself back into work and the case he was given at the Monday morning meeting, barely raising his head from the files until Ron knocked on his office door at lunchtime and asked if he fancied popping to the pub for lunch. He left work that evening at seven, well after everyone else had gone home and returned home to the dinner Kreacher had prepared.

The rest of the week passed in much the same way, as did the week after that. He spent the odd evening at Ron and Hermione's flat, listening patiently as they argued about their wedding plans, or at The Leaky Cauldron with Luna discussing her research. At the weekend he helped George and Theo at the shop, and wrote a letter to Teddy asking how he was getting on with his new broom and filling the boy in on what had been happening in his life.

Things were so normal that Harry really should have known that something was about to go spectacularly wrong.

\---

It was a warm Wednesday night when it happened. Harry was reading the Quibbler in his pyjamas, by the open window, which was letting a cool breeze circle around the room, the radio playing quietly in the background. He was just starting to think about getting an early night, when the fireplace flared to life, startling him. He jumped to his feet as Ginny appeared and stumbled into the room, clutching a bag and her face wet and blotchy, obviously having been crying.

"Ginny?"

Harry's voice seemed to open the floodgates and she was in his arms in seconds, tears streaming down her face as she gasped out unintelligible phrases against his shoulder. He held her tightly, rubbing her back and hair gently until she quieted enough that he could manoeuvre them to the sofa. Kreacher appeared in the doorway, no doubt alerted by the sobbing, and Harry asked for some tea and a clean handkerchief.

"Ginny, what's happened?" Harry asked, trying not to let her see how nervous he was. If something had happened to any of the Weasleys…

"It's Blaise," Ginny sniffed, taking the handkerchief that Kreacher waved towards her when he returned with the tea. "Thank you, Kreacher." She blew her nose and gave Harry a watery smile. "He's gone."

"Gone?" Harry repeated with a frown. "Gone where?"

"I don't know," Ginny said with a shrug, taking a sip of her tea. "He just wrote to me this morning saying he was leaving Devon and had no idea when he would return."

Harry shook his head to clear it. "I think I must have missed something," he said. "Start from the beginning."

Ginny explained that she and Blaise had had a perfect evening together at the Cuttingly ball, and that at the end of the evening, they had been alone together on the terrace, and Blaise had kissed her. "I thought everything was going along swimmingly," Ginny said. "He asked me to go riding with him, then to go flying with him. We went for a picnic by the river, and a walk through the woods. Every time he'd kiss me and I'd fall for him a little bit more. I honestly thought…"

She trailed off with a sob and Harry squeezed her hand. He'd also thought that Blaise and Ginny were a foregone conclusion, after everything he'd witnessed between them, and clearly things had intensified since he'd returned to London.

"Did something happen between you?" Harry asked. "Did you have a fight?"

"No," Ginny said. "I might understand if we had. I saw him on Thursday morning when mum and I went into town. He was coming out of Harlequin's Haberdashery with Malfoy. He waved at me. I waved back. Mum waved. He laughed. He blew me a kiss…"

Harry made a face. "I don't need this much detail, Gin."

"And that was it," Ginny continued as though he hadn't spoken. "That was the last time I saw him. Then this morning I got this letter."

She pulled the letter from her pocket, already wrinkled and worn. Harry read it through and then read it again.

"This doesn't make any sense," Harry said. "Why would he just leave after everything? Without even saying goodbye?"

"Mum said we should never have trusted them. She said they're Slytherins and…"

"No," Harry said. "No. Blaise was different. Something must have happened."

Ginny bit her lip. "Do you think so, Harry?"

"I do," he reassured her. "I'll see what I can find out at work tomorrow. For now, I think we should both get a good night's sleep."

Ginny acquiesced, allowing Harry to lead her up to the room Kreacher had thoughtfully prepared for her. There was no question that Ginny would stay with Harry as long as she needed. And surely things would be sorted out quickly, Harry thought. This was all just a misunderstanding.

\----

Harry let Ginny sleep in the next morning and went off to work at his usual time. He had every intention of tracking down Blaise Zabini and making him apologise to Ginny for breaking her heart. If that meant punching him in his stupid, charming face… Well that was just a bonus.

Jemima Jacobs was new to the Auror department, having passed out of training six months earlier. She was of medium height and build, which Harry had noticed, meant people tended to underestimate her. She was much stronger than she looked, however, and Harry had been very pleased with her work so far. And, she was still excited enough about her job to be in the office early every morning, so she was at her desk when Harry arrived.

"Morning Harry," she said, with a bright, friendly grin. "Something I can help you with?"

Harry nodded. "I need you to find out as much as you can about Blaise Zabini?"

She noted down the name. "Suspect or witness?"

"Old school friend," he said, keeping his face devoid of all expression when she looked up at him sharply. "Jemima, I know this is unorthodox, but I'm trusting you with this. It's very important."

She nodded once and smiled. "I won't let you down, Sir."

"Less of that, thank you very much," Harry said with a wink and hurried away to lose himself in his own work.

Three hours later Jemima plonked herself down in the seat opposite his desk and cleared her throat. "Blaise Zabini. I assume I can skip all the Hogwarts years since he was in your year. He sounds like a creep."

Harry shrugged and nodded. "Yeah. He was."

"He hasn't done anything wrong. Since the war he's been philanthropic. Joined a lot of societies. Made a lot of friends. Muggle born friends. Then he bought Cuttingly Court."

"That's it?" Harry asked. "I could have guessed all of that."

"His mother is ill," she said. "She lives in Prague now. Presumably she ran out of men here who were willing to marry her. He took a Portkey to visit her yesterday afternoon."

Harry relaxed slightly. "That's great Jemima, thanks."

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" she asked. "You want him to be a good guy?"

Harry grinned. "I want him to be the best guy in the world." Jemima coughed a little and gave him a pointed look. "For Ginny. He's dating Ginny Weasley."

"Gotcha," Jemima said and stood. "If I hear any more I'll let you know."

That evening, over dinner, Harry explained to Ginny everything he knew about why Blaise had left Devon.

"So it was for his mum?" Ginny asked, hopeful. "Not to get away from me."

"Of course not," Harry told her. "Anyone could see how much he likes you. He'll be back before you know it."

But June came and went without a word from Blaise, and Ginny became more and more disheartened. Harry encouraged her to write to Blaise herself, but Molly was adamant that Ginny should hold her ground and wait for Blaise to come to her.

"What if he doesn't come to me though?" Ginny argued.

"Then he's an idiot," Molly told her, concluding the argument.

Harry thought it was probably true that Blaise Zabini was the biggest idiot he'd ever met.

\---

In the aftermath of the war, Harry had assured Andromeda Tonks that he wanted to be involved in Teddy's life and would do as much to help her in raising him as he possibly could. Andromeda had taken Harry under her wing and together they had muddled through those first few months. When the subject of schooling had inevitably come up, they'd decided that Teddy should attend the local Muggle Junior School and be tutored at home in elementary magic. Harry especially had emphasised the importance of Muggle knowledge and relationships.

Now, when the first week of the summer holidays rolled around, Harry packed himself off to visit Teddy and Andromeda at the earliest opportunity.

The Tonks house was located in the tiny Wizarding village of Snableazes on the Northumberland coast. It was an old farmhouse, bigger than the Burrow, but not as grand as Cuttingly Court. The farmland had been sold off over the centuries, and the community had grown between the house, sitting on the top of the hill and the beach, but the rear of the property was still open countryside as far as the eye could see.

Harry arrived at lunchtime on Wednesday, and was nearly knocked off his feet by Teddy as soon as the door opened to admit him.

"Who is this?" Harry laughed, lifting Teddy up and tickling him mercilessly until the boy was shrieking with laughter. "This can't be my godson. My godson is a tiny boy, not a giant."

"It's me Uncle Harry!" Teddy yelled, wriggling in Harry's arms. "I've grown."

"Is it really you?" Harry asked, setting Teddy back on his feet. "Let me look at you then."

Teddy stood up straight and tall, still giggling excitedly.

"Hmmm," Harry said. "It looks like you're really Teddy. There's only one way to know for sure though." He leaned in closer and whispered. "What's the password?"

Teddy cupped his hands around Harry's ear and whispered, "Buckbeak."

"It is you!" Harry cried and swept the boy up into his arms again. "Excellent. You'll be big enough for your present."

"You got me a present?" Teddy asked, wrapping his arms around Harry's neck. "What is it?"

"It's a surprise," Harry told him. "Where's your Grandmother?"

"I'm here," Andromeda called from the kitchen. "Making lunch. Come through, come through. We have company."

Harry raised his eyebrows at Teddy. "You could have told me there were other people here."

Teddy gave an exaggerated shrug. "It's just Cousin Draco."

Harry froze. "What?"

"He said, it's just Cousin Draco, Potter," an amused drawl drifted towards him and then Draco Malfoy was suddenly in front of him, leaning in the kitchen doorway. "And while I resent the _just,_ I do trust you remember who I am."

\---

Draco thought it was inevitable that Harry had chosen the same week to visit his aunt and cousin.

Since leaving Devon, Draco had thought about him constantly. He'd thought about the conversations they'd had at Cuttingly, that incredible evening they'd spent together in the library, just talking, in a way they never had before. He'd thought about Harry's messy hair and careful hands and warm laugh. Mostly though, he’d thought of his beautiful eyes.

After lunch Harry asked Teddy if he would like his gift, and the shrieks of excitement that followed made Draco laugh. Harry winked at him.

"Careful now, Ted," Harry said, catching the boy as he raced past him screaming. "If you hurt yourself you won't be able to enjoy your present, will you?"

"What is it?" Teddy asked, jumping up and down. "What is it? What is it? Do you know, Draco?"

Draco shook his head. "No, but I'm dying to find out."

"We're all agog with anticipation here," Andromeda said dryly, sipping her tea. "Whatever could it be Harry?"

Draco raised an enquiring eyebrow at his aunt, but she just rolled her eyes.

"Let's go outside," Harry said, and knelt down next to Teddy to let him climb up onto Harry's back. They galloped off into the garden and Draco hesitated, unsure whether or not to follow.

"Go on," Andromeda urged him. "He's going to want to show off. I'd rather you were both out there ready to catch him."

"Catch him?" Draco asked, and then the pieces clicked together. "A broom."

"I think he's too young," Andromeda said, "but Harry was insistent." She stood and started to clear away the plates. Draco moved to help her, glancing towards the kitchen door again when Teddy screamed with joy.

"I had my first broom when I was younger than Teddy," Draco said, hoping to reassure his aunt that Teddy wasn't in any great danger. "And Harry will take care of him. He's flown on a Hippogriff, for goodness sake. It's not like he doesn't know what he's doing."

Andromeda gave him the kind of look his mother did, right before she asked if he'd given any thought to getting married. It was pointed and knowing and it always made Draco squirm.

"He's flown a dragon too," Andromeda said, making Draco drop a cup in surprise. "It doesn't mean he can keep Teddy on that broom."

"A dragon?" Draco asked, as that was clearly the most important part of that sentence. "When?"

"Draco!" Teddy yelled, racing into the room and throwing himself against Draco's legs. "Come see my broom! Uncle Harry bought it for me. It's a Firebolt XQ."

Draco let himself be led away by Teddy, making a mental note to ask Harry about the dragon at the earliest opportunity.

Teddy naturally wanted to be on the broom and flying right away. Harry looked at Draco, as though seeking his approval. Draco shrugged, surprised. 

“I suppose, if we charm it only to fly a little way off the ground…”

“Do you want to do it?” Harry asked and knelt down next to Teddy, holding the broomstick about three feet off the ground.

Draco cast the spell quickly and sent the broom off in a test loop of the garden.

“Excellent,” Harry said, grinning at him as he lifted Teddy onto the broom. “Now, hold tight, Master Lupin.”

Teddy gripped the neck of the broom with white-knuckled fists and Draco waved his wand again, to start the broom moving, albeit at a far slower rate than previously.

Harry laughed and cheered as Teddy did a slow lap of the garden, shrieking at them to watch him. Draco was caught between watching his cousin and watching Harry, who was almost as excited as Teddy was. He realised he’d never really experienced Harry happy before. Not up close. Not where he could see what his smiles did to brighten his eyes, or crease the corners of his mouth.

“Faster, Draco, faster,” Teddy shouted, drawing his attention back to him. 

“Go on, Draco,” Harry said, nudging him with his elbow. “A little bit faster won’t hurt.”

Draco quickened the pace of the broomstick and laughed along with Harry when Teddy started to scream. 

“That’s the first time you’ve ever called me that without rolling your eyes,” Draco said.

“I did it internally,” Harry said seriously, and then spoiled the effect by grinning.

Draco found himself grinning back. “You’re an idiot.”

“There is it,” Harry said. “Two hours it took you to call me an idiot. That must be a record.”

“I didn’t realise the clock was running,” Draco replied, changing the course of the broomstick, and causing Teddy to yell louder. “I bet I can go longer than you without flinging insults.”

“Loser buys a round of drinks?” Harry ventured, holding out his hand for them to shake on it.

“You’re on.”

\---

Late that evening, when Teddy had finally given in to sleep and Andromeda had excused herself to go and read for a while. Draco and Harry sat in the back garden, sharing a bottle of white wine and a bowl of crisps, enjoying the fading sunlight.

"I'm sorry to have intruded on your time with Teddy," Harry said.

"You're not intruding," Draco assured him. "It's nice to see him so excited. I mean we have fun of course, but he's never been that spirited around me."

"Never?" Harry asked with another wink and a big smile. "That's disappointing."

"Oh shut up," Draco laughed, and threw a crisp at him.

"Abuse!" Harry cried and threw it back, laughing when it bounced off Draco's nose. "What about when you were flying?"

"What about it?" Draco asked. "I suppose I was excited the first time. Or when we were..." He trailed off awkwardly and cleared his throat.

Harry thought about the first time he’d gotten on a broom, the exhilaration of soaring into the air, feeling the wind whipping around him, seeing everything laid out before him. He’d felt infinite. He couldn’t imagine anyone not feeling the same burst of excitement. He still felt it now, when he hadn’t ridden in a long time. 

"Yes?" Harry drawled. "When we were playing Quidditch?"

Draco nodded. "I miss it sometimes."

"Me too," Harry said. "I play with the Weasleys of course, but it's not the same."

"The same as what?"

"Beating you," Harry said with a sly grin that made Draco laugh again, and he raised his glass a little in acknowledgment.

"Maybe we could play again sometime," he said as casually as possible.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "I'd like that."

Draco's heart gave an odd thump and he took a quick gulp of wine.

"So tell me about this dragon you flew." 

\---

Playing with Teddy was easy and fun, and by happy coincidence as far as Draco was concerned, it meant playing with Harry too. They'd spent the previous two mornings teaching Teddy to fly, and Draco had promised himself he was going to thank his own father for his patience when he got home, because teaching a child was incredibly difficult and Draco couldn't remember his father ever getting angry or frustrated with him.

Luckily Harry seemed to have the patience of a saint, so Draco took deep breaths and let Harry do most of the work.

"You try living in a tent for a year with Hermione, searching for something which could be anything," Harry laughed when Draco mentioned it to him. "You'd be patient too."

This had made Draco want to ask more about what had happened to Harry during and after the war, but he didn't know how to go about it, so he kept his mouth shut. This was the third day without any insults passing between them, after all, and Draco was determined that he wouldn’t be the first to crack.

"Tell me the Buckbeak story," Teddy said that afternoon while the three of them were lying on the grass, having just finished an energetic game of hide-and-seek.

"What Buckbeak story?" Draco squawked, as he rolled over onto his stomach to look down at Harry, who was beaming up at him.

"Oh it's a great story," Harry replied and hauled the giggling Teddy up to sit him on his propped up knees. "You should tell your cousin."

"Doesn't he know it?" Teddy asked, feet tapping against Harry's stomach until he winced.

"He knows some of it," Harry said, tilting his head back to smile at Draco's glare again. "I never told you that part."

"Which part?" Teddy drummed his feet harder, until Harry groaned and rolled up until he was sitting. 

"Don't you dare tell that story, Potter," Draco said imperiously.

Harry chuckled. "Why don’t you tell it?"

“It was autumn term,” Draco began immediately, “of third year, and I was a young boy of thirteen.”

“Good grief,” Harry groaned. “I’d forgotten how melodramatic you could be.”

“Shush,” Draco said. “You asked me to tell me the story. It was our first Care of Magical Creatures lesson and we were all very excited about the lesson Professor Hagrid had planned for us.”

Harry shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

Draco ignored him. “Hagrid led us out into the Forbidden Forests, and there in a clearing, was the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen.”

“You called him a big, ugly brute,” Harry corrected. 

“Who is telling this story, Potter?” Draco snapped.

“Mother Goose?” Harry replied. “It sounds like a fairy tale to me.”

“Go on, Draco,” Teddy said, tugging on his cousin’s sleeve. “What happened?”

“Well, Professor Hagrid chose your Uncle Harry out of everyone in the class to go flying on the Hippogriff. On Buckbeak.”

“Don’t make it sound like it was a treat,” Harry said.

“Oh no,” Draco drawled. “Just blatant favouritism.”

“You’re delusional,” Harry laughed. “And I think you owe me a drink now.”

“What happened?” Teddy yelled, before Draco could protest.

“After Potter flew Buckbeak it was my turn,” Draco said. “But the poor creature was tired from flying by that point, and accidently knocked me to the ground and broke my arm when I tried to stroke him.”

By this point, Harry was laughing so hard he was doubled over. Draco watched him with amused affection. He was nothing like Draco remembered or ever imagined him to be. He was funny for one thing. And he laughed all the time. It was a good laugh. It did stupid things to Draco’s insides.

“You are such an idiot,” Harry said finally, wiping tears from his eyes. “Utterly ridiculous. I’ll buy you a drink tomorrow if you buy me one. Clearly we’re as bad as each other.” 

Draco thought that sounded perfect.

\---

Late the next morning, Harry set off to The Black Unicorn in Snableazes village, where Draco was staying, looking forward to the promised drink and some lunch. There wasn't anything strange about how excited he felt, he told himself. Malfoy had been singing its praises for a week and Harry merely wanted to try the honey and mustard sausages and Cheddar mash for himself. That was all. Sharing it with Malfoy wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. He was quite good company when there was no one else around.

The sky was black, but the day was warm and sticky. Harry thought a thunderstorm was due.  
Malfoy wasn’t in the bar, so Harry ordered himself a pint of Summer Magic and settled in to wait, choosing a seat in the bay window looking out over the sea, where the wind was whipping up the surf already. 

A shadow fell over the table when Harry was halfway through his pint and he looked up to see Greg Goyle standing opposite him, giving him a rather strange smile. Maybe it was just strange because Harry only ever remembered Goyle smiling at someone else's misfortune.

"Afternoon, Potter," Goyle said in a friendly way. "Can I join you?"

Harry swallowed and then nodded quickly. "Of course."

Goyle continued to smile as he set his pint of bitter on the table and then lowered his large frame into a chair. "I didn't expect you to be here," he said. "Though I should have guessed I suppose. Draco's letter was a bit cagey."

"Letter?" Harry repeated. Draco hadn’t mentioned any letter. 

"I told him I'd come up for a visit," Goyle said, "and he replied saying it might be best to wait a few days. Only I don't have a few days. Some of us have work to do."

Harry nodded, though he still wasn't sure what Goyle was talking about. "Well I'm sure he still appreciates you visiting."

"Oh yes," Goyle said. "Or he would if you weren't here."

"I don't see what —"

"— though with Blaise away and him avoiding Pansy he probably just wants someone to moan to."

Harry knew he was frowning and shook his head a little to try and catch up to the conversation. "Blaise is still in Prague?"

"Paris I think now," Goyle told him. "His mother is doing a lot better. Apparently she has a new admirer. Blaise wanted to escape."

"Why not come home then?" Harry asked. "He has Cuttingly Court." And Ginny.

"I think he's going to sell Cuttingly Court," Goyle said, leaning closer to Harry across the table, as though sharing a secret. "Draco told me Blaise was about to propose to someone inappropriate who lived nearby. He and Pansy had to sit Blaise down and talk some sense into him."

Harry froze, glass lifted halfway to his mouth. Suddenly, all he could hear was the sharp ringing in his ears, as the weight of Goyle’s words came crashing down on him. Beside him, he could see Goyle’s lips were still moving, but Harry couldn't pay any attention.

And then, Harry’s world snapped back into focus. He jolted to his feet, startling Goyle. “I have to go," he said urgently.

"You haven't finished your pint," Goyle pointed out.

"You finish it," Harry said. "I forgot to do something. Excuse me."

Goyle nodded pleasantly and from the corner of his eye, Harry could see him helping himself to the half-filled glass. "'Course. See you later, Potter."

\---

The weather broke almost as soon as Harry stepped outside and the black clouds and rain pouring down on him reflected his mood as he tramped across the fields, taking the long way back to Andromeda's house. His head was full of Malfoy. Every word they'd spoken, every curse they'd thrown, every laugh they'd shared. 

He'd been foolish to think it was possible that Malfoy had changed, foolish to think he wasn't the same selfish brat he'd always been. That Harry had even started to believe they were friends, that they were… He felt sick to his stomach. What had he been thinking? This was Malfoy. He should have known better. Once a ferret, always a ferret.

Too late, he realised he hadn't cast a shield charm to protect himself from the rain and when he finally slowed down, he realised he didn't have his cloak with him and therefore was missing his wand also. He wiped ineffectually at his face as thunder rolled in the distance, and looked around for shelter.

"Harry!"

Harry peered into the distance, but the rain was getting heavier and he couldn't see anyone nearby. Hurrying into a grove of trees, he dried his glasses off as best he could and looked again. This time he could make out Malfoy running towards him, protected from the rain. Harry felt soaked to the skin.

"Merlin, Harry," Malfoy said when he ducked under the last branch and was finally in front of him. "You look drowned."

Malfoy pulled out his wand and cast a quick drying charm and an Impervious to protect Harry from the rain. "You left your cloak and your wand," he said, handing them over. "I thought you'd want them back."

Harry shrugged himself quickly into his cloak, swallowing down his anger. "Thank you."

Malfoy grinned at him, and for a moment it took Harry's breath away.

"You must have just left before I got back," he said. "Greg said you left in a hurry. Were you looking for me? You should have sent a message for me; we could have had lunch together. I wanted to continue our conversation from yesterday. Maybe when the rain stops we could walk back to Andromeda's together and…"

"What are you doing?" Harry interrupted, genuinely confused. Malfoy was a mass of contradictions. He hated the Weasleys enough to ruin Ginny's chances with Blaise, but liked Harry's company enough to want to be friends?

"I don't understand," Malfoy said with an easy smile. "What am I doing?"

As Harry watched, Malfoy's eyes dropped to Harry's mouth, just for a second, and the pink tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

A torrent of emotions rose in him again. Malfoy reached out and squeezed Harry's arm. "Harry? What's wrong?"

Harry's hand came up and gripped Malfoy's elbow, spinning him in a circle until his back hit the trunk of the tree. Harry's arms bracketed Malfoy's head and he glared, furious and aroused, into Malfoy's eyes. "You want to be my friend?" Harry spat. "After everything you've done; you think it can all just be forgotten?"

Malfoy's face showed shock and confusion, but no fear. His eyes hardened at Harry's words.

"Why not? I thought we'd put the past behind us. I thought we were friends," he said urgently. "God knows I've tried."

Harry's laugh had a nasty edge. He watched as a tiny crease appeared between Malfoy's eyebrows. "You tried."

"I have tried," Malfoy insisted. "I am trying. I will try. What do you want from me, Harry?"

"Stop calling me Harry for a start," he snapped. "We are not friends."

Malfoy winced ever so slightly, and his eyes flicked down to Harry's mouth again. "No, we're not."

"So I'll ask again," Harry said. "What's your game, Malfoy?"

"I," Malfoy started, searching Harry's face for something. "I," he began again, eyes now locked on Harry's lips. "I love you," he whispered and rocked forward slightly, breathing hard.

Harry stopped him with a firm hard to his chest. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Confessing," Malfoy said, his face a mess of emotions that Harry couldn't begin to name. "I've tried so hard not to, but I can't help it. I don't know what I'm doing really, except that I want to spend time with you and talk to you. We're not the people we were, Harry. I thought we were getting along."

Harry stared at Malfoy in shock, unable to fully process the words that were being said. Malfoy loved him. Wanted to be with him. It didn't make sense.

"I thought we were too," Harry said, and he could feel some of his anger starting to drain away, but he straightened his shoulders in resolve. He needed to remember why he was angry. "But how can we be friends after what you did to Ginny? How could you do that to her?"

"I didn't do anything to Ginny," Malfoy said, and he sounded so convincing.

"Oh really?" Harry snapped. "So you didn't tell Blaise he shouldn't marry her?"

Malfoy's breath hitched, and Harry had his answer. He huffed out a bitter laugh.

"It's not what you think," Malfoy said quickly. "I like Ginny. She's a lovely girl. I just wanted Blaise to be sure, that's all. They haven't known each other very long. I was trying to protect my friend."

"From Ginny?" Harry scoffed. "She's hardly a threat."

"Everyone's a threat," Malfoy argued. "When you let people get close you're offering them the chance to hurt you. It's not that I thought Ginny would do that, but…"

"But what?" Harry asked dangerously.

Malfoy's chin tilted up slightly and he took a deep breath. "But it was made quite clear how advantageous it would be if Ginny married Blaise. He's one of the five richest men in the country."

"Did Ginny ever give you the impression she only wanted Blaise for his money?" Harry's fingers were digging into the trunk of the tree to stop him punching Malfoy's arrogant face.

"No, but the rest of the family did on occasion. Even Ron, at the ball, said some things that made me wonder. I just wanted Blaise to be careful."

"Even if you didn't do that maliciously, you can't say the same about Theo."

At the mention of Theo's name Malfoy's entire body language changed from placating to incensed. He pushed Harry away hard, making him stumble.

"Theo bloody Nott," Malfoy growled. "You're rather keen to believe me the villain of that piece aren't you?"

"He told me what you did and how you treated him," Harry shouted back. "How could I think otherwise?"

"Oh yes," Malfoy sneered. "I treated him so badly. What did he tell you? That I wouldn't help him and his father escape to the continent? I'm sure you remember I had rather more important things on my mind at the time."

"You haven't changed at all," Harry said bitterly. "You're still the spoiled, selfish bastard you've always been and not content with ruining Theo's life, you've ruined Ginny's as well."

"And that's really what you think of me?" Malfoy asked, disbelieving. "How could you even stand to be around me?"

They stared at each other, both breathing hard in anger. Harry could feel the blood rushing through his veins, and it made him feel fifteen again. At fifteen, one of them would have taken a swing at the other. Now, Harry felt confusion mixing with the anger, torn between hexing Malfoy and...

Malfoy made the choice for him and grabbed his cloak, pulling him back and around to press him up against the tree. Their eyes met, just for a moment, then dropped away and suddenly Malfoy was kissing him, hard and unforgiving. Harry pulled him closer, moaned into his mouth as their tongues slid together. There was nothing tentative or teasing about it. His lips were soft; the kiss was anything but. It felt to Harry as though Malfoy was trying to prove something to him. His hands slid into Harry's hair, tugging slightly, urging him on, until Harry felt light-headed.

They broke apart, foreheads resting together, panting against each other's lips. Malfoy had his eyes closed and Harry watched silently as he seemed to gather himself, until he stepped determinedly away.

"I'm sorry to have caused you so much trouble, Potter," he said decorously. "And to have taken up so much of your time. It shan't happen again."

Before Harry could even think of another word to say, Malfoy was gone.

\----

Harry lay awake that night, the day's events churning over and over in his mind. Malfoy's words were ringing in his ears. The kiss — that incredible, heart-stopping kiss that had managed to arouse in him more passion than he'd ever felt in all his twenty-five year of life. He could still taste Malfoy's warm, firm lips, could still feel Malfoy's hands running through his hair, could still hear the soft noises and moans he'd made as he'd pressed Harry against the tree.

At five thirty, Harry decided that if he wasn't going to get to sleep naturally, then he needed to get out of the house. Maybe exercise, he thought, would wear him out enough that he'd just pass out from exhaustion.

He walked for an hour, ignoring the drizzle, the muddy fields and early morning mist. At one time he might have stopped to admire how fresh and beautiful everything looked, even when the clouds overhead were flat and grey, but his mind was still full of Malfoy. So he marched on, unseeing until the rain got a little harder and the air a little colder.

Returning to the house, he stopped short as he opened the garden gate, and found Malfoy waiting at the front door. Harry looked around, wondering if there was any way of escaping, but Malfoy had spotted him. Harry could feel his heart beating faster. Malfoy looked exhausted, and his cheeks were tinged with what Harry could only assume was an embarrassed blush.

"Potter," Malfoy said quietly and then held out his hand, offering a thick piece of sealed parchment to Harry. "I would be grateful if you would you do me the honour of reading this letter."

Harry took it, watching without comment as Malfoy slipped past him through the gate and disappeared back down the lane towards the town. He stared at the Malfoy crest on the seal, pressed into the blood red wax, until he was sure his breathing was under control. Then he hurried back to his room and tore open the envelope.

 

_Harry_

_Please don't think that this letter is intended as a way to win you over, or even to repeat the things I said yesterday. You made your feelings quite clear and where once upon a time I may have written to you in anger at imagined injustices, I am older now and wise enough, I hope, to understand why you could never feel the same way about me as I have come to feel for you. Therefore this letter is only intended as a way to explain my part in the accusations you made about my interfering in Blaise and Ginny Weasley's relationship and about my own relationship with Theo Nott._

_It is true that Blaise asked for my opinion regarding Ginny. He wanted to know if I thought he should propose to her. I told him I thought it was far too soon to be thinking of marriage. I believe Ginny to be a sweet girl, but I've never thought she was any more enthusiastic about Blaise than she was about you. He seemed to be falling in love while she seemed much her usual self. The episode with the broomstick and the flu implied that either she or her mother was trying to manipulate Blaise and after our history, it cannot surprise you that I take a dim view of anyone trying to control my friends._

_As for the other thing you accused me of, I know you have previously had no reason to believe anything but the worst of me, but I hope you accept this as a complete and faithful account of my history with Theo Nott._

_I have known Theo my whole life. His parents lived not far from us, and our fathers were friends. You probably cannot imagine my father having any friends, but they were as close as my father allowed anyone to be, and Theo and I played together as children — when playing was something we were still allowed to do._

_I did not have an unhappy childhood, Harry. I was not beaten or chastised. I was not locked in a cupboard or treated like a slave. My parents, for all their faults, love me very much and I was lucky — spoiled, certainly — and I wanted nothing more than to be like my father. Time has cured me of that, but you must understand he wasn't always a harsh man, or a cruel man, and for all the bad things he's done in his life, he took care of me and my mother and his friends._

_Theo was my closest friend and as close to a brother as I ever had. Over the years I shared all my secrets with him. Ironically I suppose, he has always had the power to destroy me a hundred times over. I always believed that being my friend was enough to ensure his silence._

_Over time we drifted apart. Hogwarts gave you Weasley and Granger and a troupe of devoted friends from every house. It gave me Pansy and Blaise, and my love for them is as strong as any._

_In that hideous horrible summer between fifth and sixth year, when my father was in Azkaban, my mother and I were left without any form of defence against Voldemort. Father had acted as a shield between those two worlds, keeping me on one side, telling me about the power and success we would have, but never mentioning the cost. I blamed you for what we went through because I couldn't, at that time, blame him. If I had known what it truly meant — well, we'll never know what might have been different._

_That summer, I was given a choice. Kill Dumbledore or my mother, my father and I would be killed. A braver soul may have accepted death, but I have never been brave, Harry. I am not you. I accepted the task._

_I couldn't tell anyone what I was doing, but it was as obvious to my friends as it was to you that something was wrong. Pansy tried to talk to me, but I shut her out._

_That day in the bathroom — you know which day — I thought as I lay there that it would all be over. I'd rather have died at your hand than at Voldemort's. But Severus was there to save me — always — and when I woke up, Theo was there, sitting at my bedside, waiting. I felt ten years old. And of course, it all came pouring out. Every thought, every fear, every hope. I couldn't stop myself. He was the only person I trusted to listen and neither judge nor betray me. I was a fool._

_I suppose I should be grateful that he didn't tell Voldemort himself, because that would have guaranteed me a death sentence. Instead, he blackmailed me. He could tell Voldemort I had doubts. He could tell Dumbledore I was trying to kill him. He could tell you everything._

_I won't tell you the things I promised, or the things I did to ensure his silence, but you should know a lot of money was paid to him every month until our accounts were frozen after the war, and he lost a valuable source of income._

_As hard as it might be to believe, Harry, Azkaban offered me a greater freedom than I enjoyed in years. It was a punishment, but also an escape. Dumbledore said he knew I wasn't a murderer. He tried to save me, after everything I'd done. I hated myself then and for a long time after. Sometimes I still catch myself remembering what happened, wishing I had made different choices. I meant what I said in my letter to you then. I am sorry for everything I did._

_I cannot presume to tell you to cut Theo from your life, but I caution you to be careful. He is someone I trusted deeply and he betrayed me. Maybe he has changed, as I have. Maybe he is not as selfish or cruel or greedy as he was then. I like to believe I am not the same foolish boy I was._

_I have come to think of you as the person whose opinion matters most to me. I promised I would not repeat my declarations of yesterday, but you should know that you are as dear to me as any person ever could be, and I would not for the world want to see you hurt._

_I remain forever,_

_Yours,  
Draco_


	3. Chapter 3

Harry returned to London more confused than he'd ever been. He read Draco's letter a dozen times, crumpled it up, threw it out, retrieved it, tore it and patched it over and over. 

Harry’s initial reaction was that Draco had to be lying. He was a Malfoy. When had any of them ever told the truth about anything? But that wasn’t quite right, Harry thought. Draco had always been quick to tell Harry exactly what he thought of him. And honestly, he was a terrible liar. He’d never been able to pull it off convincingly before. Maybe it was the letter that gave it added credibility. But then why not also lie about what he’d said to Blaise?

Draco had always been hard and sharp, in both looks and personality. He'd been arrogant, superior and cruel. And then he'd been lost and scared and now Harry had very real evidence of Draco's own feelings on the war and what had happened to him and his family. Maybe he did feel remorse. Could Harry believe any of it?

Lying in bed one morning, two weeks after the fateful confrontation, Harry allowed himself to wonder about the possibility that Draco had been telling the truth. He could admit the possibility that Molly may have said something excitable about Ginny marrying Blaise that could have been taken the wrong way by people who didn't know her. Harry knew for a fact that money would never enter into the equation where her children's happiness was concerned, but he also knew it would absolutely be a concern for Lucius Malfoy. Draco probably thought that all parents were desperate to marry their children off to the highest bidders.

It was what Draco had said about Theo that was causing Harry the most difficulty. That his friend could be so cruel as to blackmail Draco when he was most in need of a friend and guidance was something Harry couldn't wrap his head around. But the idea nagged at him, refusing to let his mind settle. After weeks of the words flying around his head, Harry resolved to speak to Theo at the next possible opportunity and try to make sense of it.

Luckily that opportunity arrived the following Wednesday, when Harry received a letter from George Weasley, asking if Harry was free for lunch.

"I wanted to ask your advice on something," he said, sliding into a seat opposite Harry at the Leaky Cauldron and passing him a mug of butterbeer. "Theo made me an offer."

Alarm bells started sounding in Harry's head, and he felt immediately terrible for doubting his friend. No matter what Draco said, Theo had never given Harry any reason to doubt him. "What sort of offer?"

"An investment," George said. "To open another branch of the shop in Paris."

"Paris?" Harry exclaimed. "Is he moving to Paris?"

George shrugged. "Well you know Theo. He's always got something planned. And this would be a chance for me to expand."

"So he'd just be managing a shop?" Harry asked, trying not to let his unease overwhelm him.

"He'd be a partner," George said. "Like Ron."

"You wouldn't really give him a third of the business, would you?" 

"That's why I wanted your advice," George said. "Theo's been with us since the war ended, helping out when he can. He knows his stuff. His business plan was really well thought out. But it's still a family business and..."

Harry reminded himself again that Theo had been a good friend to him over the years and that just because Draco said something happened between them, that didn't mean it was true.

"Let me talk to him," Harry said, hoping that one simple conversation could resolve everything and put things back to normal.

Happy that he finally had a reason to call on Theo and ask some questions, Harry left work early and Flooed directly to Theo's flat.

"Hello?" he called out, stepping out of the fireplace. "It's just me."

"Harry!" Theo shouted back. "I'll just be a minute. Make us some tea."

Harry started the kettle boiling with a flick of his wand and then settled down on the sofa to wait. Now that he was here, his mind felt even more scatterbrained. A thousand questions that he needed answers to bounced around in head, making him feel on edge. Harry fidgeted, and then began to pace the length of the living room while he waited. Finally, he was saved by the sound of the kettle whistling. 

He set the tea tray, with the teapot, cups, milk and sugar, down on a side table and yelled for Theo.

"Just another minute!"

Harry sighed and blew out a weary breath. His gaze was drawn to the roll-top desk in the corner, covered with papers. It was the first time Harry could ever remember that the cover had been open or the desk had been unlocked.

With a quick glance towards Theo's bedroom, Harry hurried over to the desk and started looking through the papers.

"I'm proving Malfoy wrong," Harry muttered to himself. "He's a liar. I just want prove it."

He ignored the voice in his head — which had manifested itself into Ron, of all wizards — which reminded him that if he truly trusted Theo, then he didn't need to prove it.

Harry had no idea what he was looking for. The papers in front of him meant nothing to him. He checked the drawers and found more of the same.

"There's nothing," Harry thought, feeling strangely unsatisfied. Out of habit, he ran his fingers along the bottom edge of the desk, and held his breath when a slightly raised nub gave way to the pressure and a previously concealed drawer popped open.

He quickly began skimming through the contents of the drawer. Letters from a number of people relating to evidence of supposed wrong-doing. Incriminating photos of senior Ministry members caught in the act of cheating on their spouses. There was sketchy information about bribery, embezzlement, theft... Harry's stomach rolled as disgust swept through him.

At the back of the drawer was a folder bearing Draco's name. Harry's hands shook slightly as he opened it, but it only contained one letter, which was addressed to himself.

_Potter_

_I've written a dozen letters over the past couple of months and I'd hoped that when I got to this one I'd have found the words I needed to say, but somehow the opposite seems to have happened. I can't imagine anything I could say that you'd want to hear and the things I need to say I doubt you'd believe._

_I never thought I'd survive the war. Once I was in the middle of it, it didn't seem likely there'd ever be an escape, and yet here I am. You saved me. I don't know whether to thank you for it, or hate you for it. I've spent the last seven years hating you, Potter, and I'm tired of it. I'm tired of hating everything._

_Thank you for speaking on behalf of my family at the trials. I'm not sure anything we did deserved that from you._

_All that's left is an apology. You'll never be able to understand how heartfelt it is._

_I'm sorry._

_Draco Malfoy_

"Harry?" Theo's voice snapped Harry out his daze.

"What is this?" Harry snarled, still hoping, despite the evidence that Theo had a reasonable reason to have the documents.

"It's not what it looks like," Theo said, reaching for his wand as he took a step closer.

Harry was quicker though, and with a sharp "Expelliarmus," Theo was disarmed.

"You're blackmailing people," Harry said. "You stole from me."

"I didn't," Theo protested, but Harry held out Draco's letter, clenching it in his fist under Theo's nose.

"You're disgusting," Harry spat. Gathering the documents, together, he tossed everything into the fireplace and with a wave of his wand, set the whole lot alight.

"Those people are criminals," Theo said. "You're an auror. You should be investigating them. They should be in prison."

"Some of them," Harry growled. "Maybe. But you shouldn't be exploiting it for your own gain. That's even worse than what those people are doing. You are.. I can't believe what you are. I can't believe we were friends." Theo lunged for his wand again, but Harry kicked it away. "You should be glad we were though, because I'm going to give you this. Leave. Get out of the country and don't come back. George tells me you're moving to France. See that you go sooner rather than later.”

\---

Seconds later, Harry thundered down the stairs and out of the building, white hot rage burning through him as it hadn't in years. He paid no attention to where he was going as he hurried away from Theo, Draco's letter still gripped in his hand.

His feet carried him back to The Leaky Cauldron where he ordered himself a firewhiskey and hid himself away in a private corner so no-one would bother him. He knew he had acted impulsively. Without the evidence of Theo's own misdeeds he couldn't be arrested or tried. Getting him out of the country had seemed like the best solution. At least this way no one else had to know the sick feeling of disappointment and betrayal coursing through Harry’s veins.

He read Draco's letter again, then closed his eyes against his own foolishness and prayed that he'd have the opportunity to offer Draco an apology of his own.

\---

Draco had spent a miserable week locked away in his room. He ignored his mother’s attempts to lure him out with his favourite foods, and left the letters he received unanswered, until Pansy sent him a howler that shook the doors and windows.

_Draco Malfoy!_ it screamed. _If you do not reply to my letter today I will not be held responsible for my actions. You have one hour, or I’m coming to curse you face to face._

It was a standard Pansy threat, but Draco rolled out of bed anyway and summoned his quill. His father rapped on the bedroom door, even as the echo of Pansy’s enraged voice lingered in the air.

He sent back a quick note, telling her to go and boil her head, and looked back towards his bed longingly.

“Draco,” he father’s voice called to him through the door. “Your mother and I would like to talk to you.”

“I’m going out,” he shouted back, or tried to, his voice husky after not being used. 

“We’re worried about you,” his father persisted, but Draco ignored him, rubbing his face to try and wake himself up. 

“Did something happen while you were at your aunt’s?”

Draco closed his eyes and without a second thought, Apparated.

“Damn,” he said, upon opening his eyes again. 

He was on the top step outside the Lovegoods’ front door and it was raining.

The door opened and Luna smiled at him. “Hello, Draco. I thought I heard someone. Why are you in your pyjamas?”

Draco looked down at himself and found she was right. “Oh no.”

“Come in,” she said, standing aside to give him room. “You’re soaking.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologised, hurrying into the warm kitchen. “I didn’t even know I was coming here. I just had to get away from home.”

“Sit down,” Luna told him, pulling out a chair and starting the kettle boiling, with one flick of her wand. “I’ll get you one of dad’s old dressing gowns.”

Ten minutes later, Draco was ensconced by the fire, wrapped in an overflowing towelling robe, with a cup of tea warming his hands.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated. “I have no one else to talk to.”

“You can always talk to me. You have a very nice voice.”

Draco smiled and it felt like the first time in forever since he’d done that. “Thanks, Luna. I don’t think you can help me this time though.”

“You’re in love,” Luna said, blinking at him with wide, happy eyes. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Not when they hate your guts,” Draco muttered and sipped his tea. “How did you know?”

“It was that or you’d murdered someone,” Luna told him. “And you’ve never been very good at that.”

“Cheers,” he said. “I’m not very good at being in love either.”

“Is it Hermione?” Luna enquired and then thumped Draco on the back when he choked on his tea. “Harry then.”

“How could you possibly know that?” he asked when he could breathe again. 

“You said they hated you,” Luna reasoned. “It’s a very short list, despite what you may think. And I can’t imagine that you’ve seen Katie Bell in the last seven years.”

Draco groaned. “What am I going to do?”

“Drink your tea,” Luna replied. “The rest will all work, you’ll see. I’m sure things aren’t as hopeless as you imagine.”

\---

August dawned hot and sunny, and Harry gave in to Ron and Hermione's attempts to drag him off for one last adventure before they became an old married couple.

Hermione made a schedule, booked accommodation and provided a list of essentials to bring along. Harry reminded her that they could always pop home and collect anything they'd forgotten, but the glare he received in response made him check the list twice before he joined them at the Burrow and they set off, first to Bournemouth, then Southampton, and finally to Bath.

The letter arrived just as they were finishing breakfast on their fourth day in Bath. It was addressed to Hermione, who accepted it from the owl with thanks and a left over sliver of bacon. Turning it in her hands, she paled slightly as she stared at the wax seal.

"'Mione?" Ron said around a mouthful of beans, egg and toast. "What is it?"

She shook her head slightly and opened the letter, taking a good few minutes to read the contents, at least three times if Harry was any judge. Ron caught his eye and they both shrugged. 

The colour had returned to Hermione's cheeks, but a curious look had come over her face. Harry had seen it numerous times before when she was weighing up a particularly difficult decision.

"Well,” she said, folding the letter and holding it in her lap. "We're going on trip."

"We're already on a trip," Ron pointed out. "I thought we were going shopping."

"Shopping can wait," Hermione said firmly. "We have been invited for lunch."

"Excellent," Ron said with a grin, as though he hadn't just stuffed himself full of a cooked breakfast. He picked up his cup and winked at Harry. "Where are we going?"

"Malfoy Manor," Hermione said primly, and Ron choked on his tea. Harry’s heart started pounding in his chest, and he stared at Hermione, open-mouthed

"Malfoy Manor?" Ron exclaimed. "You have got to be joking. I wouldn't set foot in that God-forsaken place for a million galleons, and I wouldn't let you either."

Hermione watched Ron with a calm face and a raised eyebrow. "Let me?"

Harry decided to avoid that minefield completely and held out his hand. "May I see the letter?" Harry’s heart sped up at the thought of seeing Draco again and being able to apologise for their last meeting and everything that he had said. 

Hermione handed it over without a word and Harry tried to hide the fact that his hands were shaking as he began to read.

"Oh don't start," Ron was shouting. "You were tortured in that house."

"I haven't forgotten," Hermione said tightly. "And it's my choice if I want to go back."

"Why would you ever want to go back there? Why would you ever want to see those people again?"

"I've seen Malfoy," Hermione replied, and Harry could tell she was starting to lose patience, because her voice was getting louder. "He's different. Why shouldn't Narcissa or Lucius be different?"

"I don't bloody care whether they've turned into Santa and Mrs Claus," Ron snapped. "That house, it..."

Hermione grasped Ron's hand and squeezed it tightly, reaching out with her other hand to cup his cheek. "I'm scared too," she said quietly. "Don't think I'm not. But if we don't go then he wins and we're still afraid of him. And I'm not. I'm not afraid of him, Ron. I can't be. Please."

The fight went out of Ron and he swayed forward in his seat until his forehead was resting against Hermione's . "Why now?"

"Because we're here," Hermione said. "Because Narcissa asked and I think she wants to face her own demons while she has the chance."

Harry had now read Narcissa's letter twice and thought Hermione was probably right. The letter made it clear that both Lucius and Draco were away from home and that Narcissa would like to take the opportunity to speak with all three of them. Harry wasn’t entirely sure what she could have to say, but after everything she risked for him, he thought it only fair he should hear her out. Even if the thought of stepping foot into Malfoy Manor again filled him with dread.

"Fine," Ron said and then kissed Hermione's head. "But I'm not going to enjoy it."

"That's okay," Hermione replied, pressing a longer kiss to Ron's lips. "I'm not expecting it to be a picnic myself."

"Harry?" Hermione prompted. "Are you alright with this?"

"Yeah," Harry said, nodding quickly. "Yeah, I think it'll do us all good."

It was true, he thought. He'd made a home out of Grimmauld Place. He worked at the Ministry. He visited Hogwarts whenever he could. He'd even been camping once. All of those places had held awful memories for him, but he'd managed to put those memories behind him, and concentrate on the good times.

"The problem is," Ron said, as they walked towards the Manor from the Apparition point at Corsham, "we've never had any good times here."

Harry sighed. "I know," he said, "but I still think this will help."

At the far limit of the wards, they stood and composed themselves, Ron and Hermione hand in hand, Harry looking down the driveway to the house in the distance with a nervousness he would never admit to.

"Are you sure about this?" Ron asked Hermione, who simply nodded. "Let's get this over with then.”

As they walked, Harry took in the changes that had been made since they were dragged along this path seven years ago. The hedges weren't as high as they had been, he thought. He could spot glimpses of taller trees now in the gardens beyond, a willow and a cherry-blossom adding a lighter contrast to the dark green topiary. It didn’t look as gloomy and intimidating as it had. The gates opened for them as they approached, and Harry gripped Hermione's other hand as they walked through.

The house too looked different to Harry's memories. It was still huge and imposing, but it wasn't as dark nor as gloomy as it had been. The windows sparkled in the sunshine, the lead frames and silver and gold tipped metalwork on the roof and door reflecting the light out. The appearance was far more pleasing than Harry would ever have imagined. They stopped at the end of the drive, taking it all in.

Harry could have lived here, he reminded himself, and snorted at the idea. Then he started to giggle.

Hermione and Ron turned to look at him as though he was mad.

"Sorry, sorry," he said, trying to get himself under control. "It's nothing. I just need a minute."

He managed to compose himself just in time, for the doors swung open before they reached them, and Narcissa Malfoy stood framed in the entrance. She looked radiant, silver hair flowing around her like a halo. Harry had to shake himself and remember that, while Narcissa had indeed saved his life, she was also the most terrifying woman he'd ever met. After all, she had looked Voldemort in the face and lied to him. The only other person who Harry knew had done that was Snape.

Narcissa held out her hand, and before Harry could even think of moving, Hermione was striding forward determinedly and shaking it.

"Thank you for the invitation, Mrs Malfoy," Hermione said, without the slightest tremor in her voice. Harry heard Ron take a breath beside him. He'd heard that sound a dozen times — it was Ron's "my girlfriend is amazing" noise. Harry couldn't argue.

"Thank you for coming," Narcissa said, clasping Hermione's hand in both of hers. "I would have understood if you'd refused. I thought the time had come to make things right."  
Narcissa kept hold of Hermione's hand with her left, and offered her right to Harry, then Ron. "I'm so sorry."

Hermione's smile was small but gracious. "Thank you."

Narcissa led them inside, and all Harry’s nervousness at entering the house again was immediately forgotten. The hall looked nothing like it had seven years ago. The gloomy greys and eerie shadows were gone and everything shone, looking clean and fresh, as though evil had never filled the house at one time.

There was a tea service laid out in the drawing room. Hermione sat between Ron and Harry on the sofa, all three of them looking around at the mint and white striped wallpaper, and the way the light bounced off the crystals in the chandelier, casting pretty patterns on the walls and ceiling. They drank their tea in silence, while Harry frantically tried to think of a suitable topic of conversation.

"Draco tells me you were visiting my sister while he was there, Harry," Narcissa said, when the silence was just starting to become unbearable. Ron and Hermione fixed him with the same curious frown and Harry cursed himself for never mentioning to them that Draco had been there.

"Yes," Harry said, ignoring his friends and focusing on Narcissa. "Yes, we spent some time together. With Teddy."

"Such a darling boy," Narcissa said sweetly, drawing Hermione's attention back to her, for which Harry was supremely grateful.

"Do you see a lot of your sister now, Mrs Malfoy?" Hermione asked.

"Less than I would like to," Narcissa admitted. "But more than I have seen her in years and it is wonderful to have her back. Sometimes you have no idea of what you're losing until it's gone."

\---

Draco couldn't concentrate on anything. The work that usually consumed all his time and attention was suddenly dull and unappealing. It couldn't distract him from thoughts of Harry the way he'd hoped it would. 

It was a gloomy Thursday in London, reflecting Draco’s mood as he walked down Diagon Alley on his lunch break. 

He stopped in front of Madam Malkin's, spotting a nice silk shawl his mother would love, and was suddenly overcome with homesickness. All he wanted right then was to have her stroke his hair and tell him everything would be alright, the way he had when he was a child. On an impulse, he ventured inside to buy the shawl for her, then decided to take some of the much-accrued time off he was due and go home early for the weekend.

He Apparated to Corsham, and picked up some chocolates for his father, and a bottle of Malbec for himself. The weather in Wiltshire was certainly happier than in London and Draco took pleasure in walking home, stopping occasionally to talk to the locals as he passed. Most of them had known him, at least by sight, his whole life. He'd spent eighteen years looking down on them, and the last six, since his release from Azkaban, trying to make up for it.

He reached the Manor an hour later. Hill greeted him at the door and took his outer robes and the gifts.

"Mistress is in the garden," Hill said and seemed on the verge of saying more, but instead squeaked excitedly and then popped away.

"Mad as a box of frogs," Draco murmured as he went in search of his mother.

He passed through the drawing room on his way out to the terrace, where she generally took her afternoon tea. He shrugged out of his jacket and pulled off his tie, feeling at once more relaxed. He tossed them idly over the the back of the sofa and noticed his mother's cross-stitch circlet working away in her usual spot by the fire. "Cheating," he whispered, with a grin.

She wasn't on the terrace when he stepped outside, so Draco headed for the Rose Garden, which was the only part of the estate she looked after herself.

He could hear footsteps as he approached. "Mother, I have a problem," he said, as he stepped through the magnificent rose-covered archway, straight into the path of Harry Potter.

"Draco," Harry said, staring at him in equal astonishment. "What are you doing here?"

Draco fought against any number of responses before settling on a simple, "I live here."

"Yes of course," Harry said, face flaming with embarrassment. "Sorry. I'm sorry. Your mother said you wouldn't be back until the weekend, or we would never have presumed…"

"We?" Draco asked, glancing around the otherwise empty garden.

"Ron, Hermione and I," Harry explained. "We're staying in Bath. Your mother read a piece in the local paper about our visit and invited us for lunch."

"Of course," Draco said quietly, but his mind was racing. He hadn’t seen Harry since he’d handed over the letter and now here he was, standing in Draco’s garden, looking tanned and relaxed. Draco had absolutely no idea how to react. His eyes fell to Harry’s lips and he remembered their kiss. "And how are you finding it?" he croaked.

"It's beautiful," Harry said quickly, gesturing around him. "It's all beautiful.

"Even the peacocks?" Draco asked, eyes roving Harry's face for some sense of what he was thinking or feeling.

"I haven't seen any yet," Harry replied, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. They stared at each other for another long moment before Harry blurted out, "I'm so sorry. I don't mean to be intruding on your home. We wanted to come and see your mother and Hermione wanted us to confront the past or face our demons or something, and I thought it was a good idea, so here we are. And it was a good idea, because the Manor is completely different now, and your mum has been so gracious and kind and I don't want her to think we're ungrateful, but if you want me to leave, we can leave."

Draco was just about to reassure Harry that the last thing he wanted was for him to leave, when a shriek pierced the air and and angry squawk followed it across the garden.

"Bloody bird," Draco hissed as he and Harry immediately began to run towards the noise.

They stopped short in a small clearing on the other side of some trees and found a ruffled peacock, feathers out and head drawn up, glaring malevolently at Ron, whose bleeding hand was being cradled by Hermione.

"Stop fussing, Ron," Hermione said. "I could have fixed it by now."

"It bloody well hurts," Ron snapped back. "That damn bird's a menace."

"I couldn't agree more," Draco said, stepping forward to try and shoo the peacock away.

"Malfoy!" Hermione exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"He lives here," Harry whispered, but loud enough that Draco could hear.

"Yes, but he's supposed to be away until the weekend," Hermione reminded him. She finished healing Ron's hand and gave it a tender kiss. "There. Don't be such a baby."

"I came back early," Draco said, ignoring the rather intimate moment he was sure he shouldn't have been privy to. "I didn't realise mother had guests." He looked towards the house and then back at Harry, Ron and Hermione. "I'll go back to town until you've finished your visit."

"No!" Harry said quickly. "No, please. You don't have to. We can't run you out of your own home."

Draco was torn between wanting to stay with Harry, and not wanting to force himself into Harry's company if he was unwelcome. But as it was Harry himself insisting…

"Are you sure?"

Ron was sucking on his freshly healed wound, but he stepped forward and held out his other hand.

Everyone gaped at him.

Draco reached out tentatively and shook the proffered hand. "Thank you, Weasley."

Ron nodded and stepped back, slipping his arm around Hermione's waist. "I think your mum said something about tea."

"Of course," Draco said, stepping aside to let Ron and Hermione make their way out of the clearing ahead of him.

Harry fell into step with Draco as they walked back towards the house, and Draco couldn't help thinking that things were suddenly looking much rosier than they'd previously been.

\---

It was an oddly happy visit for all involved. Narcissa and Draco waved Harry, Ron and Hermione off that evening with the promise that they would return the following morning and spend the whole weekend at the Manor.

Ron talked almost non-stop once they arrived back at the Inn in Bath, about the food, the house elves and the changes to the house, leaving Harry the opportunity to gather his thoughts and lay them out in some sort of orderly manner.

Draco had been the perfect host; he was courteous and attentive, he only called Ron and Hermione by their first names, and once they'd returned to the house for afternoon tea, the awkwardness between them appeared to vanish and Draco had spent most of his time smiling.

Draco Malfoy.

Smiling.

At Harry Potter.

Harry laughed, making Ron sputter to a stop, and Hermione turned her attention away from her fiancé to face Harry.

"What's so funny?" she asked, watching him through narrowed eyes. "You've been smiling like a lunatic since Hill brought out those cream scones."

Ron moaned again at the mention of the, admittedly delicious, cream scones, and Harry gave Hermione a one-shouldered shrug.

"I was just thinking," Harry said, "how strange it is, to have spent the day with Draco Malfoy and not once wanted to punch his pointy face."

Hermione chuckled. Ron snorted.

"Not even once?" he asked. "I admit he's not the nasty little git he was ten years ago, but I still wanted to slap him a couple of times. Just for old time's sake."

"It was a good day, wasn't it?" Hermione asked, studying Harry. "I'm glad we went."

"I'm glad we went too," Harry told her. "Thank you for insisting."

"I've told you a hundred times," Hermione said, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Life is much simpler when you do what I say."

"It's true," Ron said, and kissed her cheek. "What kind of food do you think they'll have for elevenses?"

\---

There were macarons for elevenses, and Ron tried one of every kind on offer much to Hermione's mortification. Harry caught Draco hiding a grin when she began nudging the silver salver away from Ron's determined fingers, and winked conspiratorially, causing Draco to burst out laughing, and Hermione to sit back sharply, red-faced. Narcissa, having the best manners of anyone Harry had ever met, pretended that nothing had happened.

After lunch, Harry walked with Draco, Ron and Hermione down to the lake, and watched with confused contentment as Draco and Ron discussed fishing as if they'd never shared an angry word in their life.

Hermione slipped her hands around Harry's arms and gave a friendly squeeze.

"I didn't even know Ron liked fishing," he said quietly and Hermione chuckled against his shoulder.

"He used to go with his dad," she told him. "Arthur enjoys it. I'm rather surprised Malfoy does though."

Harry nodded, smiling absently as he watched Draco. "No, I can't really see him sitting out for hours in the rain, waiting for a bite."

They joked together until Draco and Ron wandered back over to them.

"What are you two giggling about?" Draco asked, smiling at them.

"Nothing," Harry said, grinning back at him. "Are we walking?"

Ron and Hermione continued on ahead, hand in hand. Harry and Draco trailed behind, enjoying a comfortable silence.

"I never imagined you fishing," Harry said a little while later.

"Have you imagined me a lot?" Draco asked, bumping his arm.

Harry nodded seriously. "Tormenting house elves, throwing tantrums, cackling maniacally."

Draco pressed his lips together tightly, eyes twinkling. "I have to admit, my evil laugh is probably second to none in Wiltshire. I daresay it surpasses even my father's."

"You'll have to let me hear it some time."

"Maybe after dinner."

\---

Narcissa, with gentle persuasion, managed to convince Hermione to play the piano once dinner was over.

Hermione's playing was always beautiful and Harry allowed the music to wash over him as his attention wandered back to Draco, as it had been doing all day.

He seemed a completely different person to the stuck-up boy Harry had met in Madam Malkin's fourteen years earlier, or the terrified young man Harry had pulled from the raging fire during the last battle. He was even different to the Draco Harry has spent those evenings with at Cuttingly Court, where he'd read quietly and made polite conversation about inconsequential things. This Draco laughed more freely, teased his mother even as he doted on her, was always polite to the house elves and never had a bad word to say about anyone or anything.

He was handsome, Harry thought, having re-evaluated his mental description of Draco's nose and chin from "pointy" to "refined". When he walked, words like elegant flitted through Harry's mind. When he sat, as he did now, watching Hermione with rapt admiration, Harry couldn't help thinking of him as distinguished.

Harry applauded with the others when Hermione finished and stood, smiling with a slight self-conscious blush as Narcissa, Draco and Ron heaped praise upon her. Another five minutes saw her and Ron excusing themselves for bed, and Narcissa declaring that it was long past time that she herself should have been asleep. Glancing at the clock Harry realised that it was nearing eleven, and not too late for him.

Draco offered him a nightcap and they settled in against the fire, enjoying the flickering light as they had in Devon, even though the heat was being reflected away.

"I'm glad you came today," Draco said, and Harry smiled warmly at him.

"I'm glad I came too," he said. "Thank you for the opportunity to get to know you."

Draco smiled into his glass. "I'm only sorry it couldn't have happened sooner. But then, I was a horrible little brat before."

"People change," Harry said quietly, his breath catching when Draco's face lit up.

"Indeed they do, Harry."

It was on the tip of Harry's tongue to take the moment to apologise for what had happened in Northumberland, but instead Harry let it pass in silence.

"You could let me hear your evil laugh now," was what he eventually said.

Draco's laughter, echoed around the room for a good five minutes, and it didn't sound even remotely evil.

\---

Draco woke at an ungodly hour for a Sunday morning, and spent the first twenty minutes of his day staring at every item of clothing he possessed through narrowed, judging eyes. When Bigly arrived to wake him at seven, she seemed surprised that he was up and moving about.

"Is Master well?" she asked timidly. "Is something wrong with Master's clothes?"

Draco ran his fingers through his hair and picked up a dark blue waistcoat. "Do you like this?"

Bigly backed away quickly. "Master is not giving Bigly clothes."

"No," Draco assured her. "No. Absolutely not. I meant on me. Does it suit me?"

The elf scurried back to his side and picked up a dark purple waistcoat, with paisley print. "This is Bigley's favourite of Master Draco's things," she said.

Draco couldn't remember the last time he'd worn it, but it would go nicely with the black shirt and morning coat he'd already picked out. "Thank you, Bigley," he said. "Is anyone else up?"

"Harry Potter is having breakfast with Mistress in the dining room," Bigley said. She started putting away the rest of Draco's clothes while he disappeared into his bathroom. When he returned thirty minutes later, fresh as a daisy and slightly more relaxed, the room was spotless and Bigley was waiting for him. "Harry Potter is wearing jeans."

Draco stared at Bigley. She stared back with innocent eyes that couldn't possibly be that innocent, considering the comment she'd just made.

"I don't own any jeans," Draco reminded her after a moment.

Bigley smiled and picked up the morning coat and the tie and returned them to their place in the wardrobe. "Master will be looking very smart in just the shirt and waistcoat."

Another fifteen minutes saw Draco beautifully dressed and walking as fast as he dared down to the dining room. 

"Good morning," he said as he entered the room. His mother glanced at the clock and looked back at him knowingly. Draco raised his chin a little and turned to Harry, who was smiling at him.

"Good morning," Harry replied. "That's a very smart waistcoat."

"This?" Draco said, moving to the sideboard to fill himself a plate of bacon and eggs. "It's Bigley's favourite."

His mother coughed into her napkin, eyes sparkling with amusement. Draco ignored her and sat down opposite Harry.

"What do you have planned for today, darling?" she asked, and then without waiting for him to answer, added, "Maybe you could take Harry flying. The estate is beautiful from the air, Harry. And if I do say so myself, I think Wiltshire has some of the most beautiful countryside in all of England."

Harry looked delighted at the suggestion and Draco watched him with a faint smile as Harry chattered excitedly with his mother.

\---

Harry was having such a lovely morning. He'd just finished his third helping of toast, Narcissa was explaining the boundaries of the Malfoy estate and how they were maintained, and Draco was smiling at him with that odd, not quite there smile, that softened his face, making him look almost angelic.

He would never have imagined that he'd be able to spend a pleasant breakfast in Malfoy Manor with Narcissa and Draco, but here he was and he was enjoying every minute of it.

As he picked up another slice of toast, he saw an owl appear at the window, and it hooted urgently. Draco jumped up to let it in and held out his arm for the owl to settle on.

"That's Hermes," Harry said, rising to his feet and taking a sliver of bacon over to offer the agitated bird. "The Weasleys' owl."

Hermes jumped immediately onto Harry's shoulder and hooted loudly in his ear. "Yes, I can hear you," Harry soothed, unfastening the letter from his leg.

The letter was addressed to Ron by name, but the writing was shaky and there was no other address or information on the envelope.

"That's odd," Harry murmured. "I should take this up to him."

Hermes hooted again.

"Draco, would you mind?" Harry asked, and passed Hermes back to him. "This seems urgent."

Harry hurried from the room, hoping that Draco and Narcissa couldn't tell how worried he was. Hermes was usually a calm and quiet owl, and Harry could only imagine that something terrible must have happened to send Hermes into such distress.

He knocked on Ron and Hermione's bedroom door, and Ron appeared in the doorway a minute later, dressed and smiling. "Morning."

Harry wasted no time in pushing the letter into Ron's hands. "Hermes brought this," he said. "It seems urgent."

Ron frowned and ripped open the letter as he stepped back into the room, allowing Harry to follow him in. Harry looked at Hermione, who hurried over to them, brushing her hair, and gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

"What's going on?" she asked.

Harry explained quietly about Hermes arrival and then they both watched with concern as shock, anger and confusion registered on Ron's face in varying degrees. Finally he sat down heavily on the bed and swore.

"What?" Harry exclaimed. "What is it?"

Ron held out the letter and Harry grabbed it.

_Ron_

_You must come home at once. I can barely put into words what has happened._

_Mum and Dad received a letter yesterday from Crabtree and Cliffe Solicitors, stating that we are to vacate the Burrow at the earliest convenience, a week at the most, as the property now belongs to Gringotts bank. George received one for the shop too and his flat._

_We thought there had to be some mistake, and we asked Bill to look into it, but he said the letters are genuine, and Gringotts have documents that name the house and the shop as collateral for a loan of two hundred and fifty thousand galleons made to Theo Nott for a business venture._

_Mum and dad swear they didn't sign anything, but George says he did agree to counter-sign some papers for Theo and confessed that he took Theo's word for what they were, rather than reading them himself. He knows it was stupid, but none of us thought that Theo would cheat us that way._

_Ron, please come home now. Mum fainted when Bill said everything was legal and Healer Dixon has given her something to keep her sedated. Dad's beside himself and has decided to go to London to help George find Theo. Bill is trying to work things out at the bank, but I don't know what he can possibly do. Percy is talking to a solicitor of our own about our legal rights, but the outcome doesn’t look good. We have to pay the money back or lose everything._

_Ginny_

Harry handed it silently back to Hermione.

"I'll pay it," Harry told Ron. "I have money. My parents' and Sirius'. I have enough."

Ron was staring blankly at the wall. "It'll wipe you out. Two hundred and fifty thousand galleons, I feel sick."

He ran to the bathroom and Hermione ran after him, dropping the letter as she went.

Harry had enough money, probably. He'd never taken the time to find out exactly how much he’d inherited. He knew he'd set some of it up in a trust for Teddy and he'd donated some to the families who'd been affected by the war and to Hogwarts for the repairs. There would still be enough though, he was sure, to help the Weasleys.

No matter what they decided to do however, they needed to return to Devon at once.

\---

Draco couldn't eat anything once Harry had vanished upstairs with the letter. The owl helped itself to most of Draco's plate, while he paced the length of the dining room, ignoring his mother's calm, knowing gaze.

"Darling, he'll tell you if something's wrong," she said once the owl had had its fill and flown back out through the window. "Why don't you have a cup of tea?"

"Of course something's wrong," Draco said, ignoring the cup his mother levitated in front of him. "When does an owl ever disturb someone on a Sunday morning with good news?" He grabbed the cup and slammed it back down on the table, where it rattled against the polished wood. "I'm not five years old. I don't need coddling."

"Draco," his mother started, and he sighed at the note of displeasure in her voice. "I know this is difficult for you, but I'm your mother and I know when you're upset. And even if that doesn't matter one jot to you at the moment and you don't respect my efforts to calm you down, the very least you can do is respect the Wedgwood."

Draco sat down heavily in the chair at the far end of the table. "Mum, just this once could you pretend that you don't know everything that's going on in my life?"

Narcissa sipped her own tea and smiled sweetly at him. "I don't know what you're talking about, darling."

"The thing is," he pressed on. "About Harry.."

Harry chose that moment to burst back into the room, looking as lost as Draco had ever seen him. Draco stood immediately and hurried towards him. "What's happened?"

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" Harry asked. "In private."

Narcissa stood before Draco could open his mouth to answer, and swept towards them. She squeezed Harry's shoulder affectionately. "I'll get out of your way. Draco, fetch Harry some tea, he looks ill. I do hope everything's alright, dear."

Draco was already reaching for Harry's arm as the door closed behind her. "Come and sit down," he said, summoning his cup of tea from the other side of the table. "Drink this."

Harry shook his head. "No, no. I'm fine. Really. I just wanted to tell you we have to leave."

Draco hoped his face didn't reflect how miserable that simple statement made him. Harry was clearly upset and Draco wanted to help however he could.

"Won't you tell me what's wrong?" he asked, resting his hand on top of Harry's where it lay on the table.

"Theo," Harry said quietly. Draco's hand twitched. Harry caught it and laced their fingers together, finally looking up and meeting Draco's eyes. "He's done something terrible."

Draco squeezed Harry’s hand, listening to the whole story comment or question. He was just about to offer whatever he could do to help find Nott, when Ron and Hermione entered, fully packed and ready to leave.

"Can you thank your mum for us, Draco?" Hermione asked, as Draco led them towards the Floo that could take them straight to The Burrow. "We're sorry to be dashing off, but it is an emergency."

"Of course," Draco said absently, already trying to work out a plan of attack.

"And could you not tell anyone what's happened?" Ron asked. "I know it won't stay a secret for long, but if you could…"

"I won't say a word," Draco promised, shaking Ron's hand again.

Ron and Hermione disappeared in a green flash and Draco was left alone with Harry once.

"Thank you for everything," Harry said, holding out his hand.

Draco clasped it firmly. "It was my pleasure, Harry."

He waited until Harry had disappeared and then called for Bigly.

"I need you to pack me a bag," he said. "Plain, black clothes only. Nothing too fancy, but the finest quality."

Bigly nodded and popped away to do as she was told. Draco went to find his mother.


	4. Chapter 4

The Notts, like the Malfoys, kept a house in the Wizarding neighbourhood in Paris, located in the Marais district, where the oldest families had always lived. Draco's International Port Key dropped him in Square Georges-Cain on Rue Payenne and he took a moment to enjoy the steadiness of the ground under his feet and breathe in the air. He hurried along the street to a small cafe he'd been visiting since he was a child, where Madame Licorne greeted him with a hug and asked after his mother as she ushered him into a seat at a table.

"I'm not here for pleasure," Draco told her, in perfect French. He accepted the food she placed in front of him with a smile. "You spoil me."

"You're too thin," she said, patting his cheek. "If you're not here for pleasure, what are you here for?"

"Theo Nott," Draco said in between bites of his sandwich. "Have you seen him?

She pursed her lips. "Bah, that boy. He is very rude. Always running up bills."

"So you have seen him," Draco said, leaning closer to her and lowering his voice. "Where is he, Madame Licorne?"

\---

Harry spent a restless evening at the Burrow, reading the letter and papers provided by Gringotts over and over, until he could practically recite the words.

Mrs Weasley was sleeping, the medi-witch having given her a powerful sleeping draught to help her relax and rest. Ginny and Hermione had sat with her until they were sure she was comfortable, and then had set about packing up the Weasleys' belongings.

Ron had gone to London to meet his father and brothers, but he had begged Harry to stay behind to help his mother and Ginny. Harry had protested that he could help more with the search, but Ron had insisted and Ginny had looked worried and tired, so Harry gave in with a nod.

George and Ron stumbled out of the grate just as the clock was chiming eleven, startling Harry, who had just moved closer to the fire.

"Hiya, Harry," George greeted him, with a half-hearted smile.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked them. "Did you find anything? Where's your dad?"

Ron collapsed into a chair opposite Harry and began to explain, while George set about finding something for them to eat.

"Dad's staying in London until we find Nott, he says. We're not going to find him though." Ron closed his eyes. "Not if he doesn't want to be found."

"Paris," Harry exclaimed, taking a plate of cheese sandwiches from George's overflowing arms and setting it on a side table beside Ron. "He said he was going to Paris."

“I sent owls to the address he gave me” George said, “and they were returned. No one at that address has ever heard of him."

"He's a con-artist," Ron huffed. "And a good one. Had us fooled all these years, didn't he?"

"This is all my fault," Harry said quietly.

"Harry," Ron sighed, "no offence mate, but not everything is about you."

"I knew he was blackmailing people," Harry confessed, leaning closer to them, forearms resting on his knees. "I'm an Auror. I should have arrested him."

"Woah, woah, slow down, Harry," George said, confused. "Explain from the beginning."

Harry took his time and told them the whole story. He told them about Nott blackmailing Draco, about the doubts he'd had when George had asked him to speak to Nott. He told them about the evidence he'd found in Nott's desk and how he had burned it.

"I told him to leave you alone," Harry finished. "I told him to go to Paris and never come back. I didn't want you to know what kind of person he was."

George and Ron shared a look that Harry didn't fully understand.

"Harry, it's not your fault," George said. "You told me not to accept his offer, and I did it anyway. I didn't read it properly. I trusted him."

"Because I didn't tell you everything. You would never have —"

"Harry," Ron interrupted. "He was our friend. He helped us for years. He worked with us. He stayed in our homes. He bought us presents and gave us advice. None of us would ever have expected him to do something like this. Not even you. Not even after what you found out, because you're a good person and you think the best of people."

"I destroyed evidence," Harry protested, but Ron just shook his head.

"Yeah, you should really stop doing that." Ron shrugged. "What do you want me to do? Haul you in for investigation? You know, the reason blackmailers get away with things is because no one wants people to know the truth. We're not going to go around screaming that Nott stole our homes and our business."

"But he did and it's my —"

"It was a stupid thing to do," Ron continued, ignoring Harry. "I'm not saying it wasn't stupid, but you were upset. That's what happens when people close to you betray you. It hits you harder than strangers hurting you, because it matters more. The people you care about aren't supposed to do that." He rubbed his hands over his face and blew out a breath. "We were all taken in. We're all to blame. George should have listened when you told him not to do business with Nott. Malfoy should have…"

"It's not Draco's fault," Harry said quietly. "He was trying to warn me."

George looked surprised at Harry's words and Ron watched Harry's face carefully, like he was puzzling over a chessboard. "Draco. Right."

Harry frowned, about to ask what Ron meant, but he was waved quiet as Ron stood up and stretched. "I need sleep," he said. "And my fiancé." He patted Harry's shoulder as he made his way towards the stairs.

"Ron's right, Harry," George said, as he too got to his feet. "Don't beat yourself up all night, mate. We'll be alright."

Harry watched as George tossed some Floo-powder into the fireplace and disappeared in a flash of green, and thought back over their conversation. No matter they said, it was his fault. If only he'd done his job properly, he'd have been able to save the Weasleys from all of this and Merlin knew how many other families Nott would prey on in the future. Exhaustion eventually overtook him, and Harry fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming of the Weasleys being hurled out their home while he could only look on, unable to help them.

\---

Le Cheval Magique was the oldest Wizarding Inn in Paris. Draco had visited only a few times in his life, but with each year that passed it seemed to deteriorate further. He stood outside, taking in the run down paintwork and dingy windows. There was no reason for a magical establishment to become so decrepit, unless of course that was how the owners wished it to look.

Draco pulled his cloak more firmly around himself and tightened his grip on his wand. Stepping inside he was overwhelmed by the smell of fresh bread and ale. There was a large crowd of people, talking and laughing in a far more pleasant atmosphere than the outside of the building would suggest. He stayed near the door, running his eyes over each of the patrons, until finally he found who he was looking for.

He approached slowly, careful not to make a fuss. He raised his wand at the last possible moment and murmured the spell so quietly, only he could hear it.

"You shouldn't be so predictable," Draco said, taking a seat opposite Theo Nott a moment later. "And you should use a disguise."

"Draco!" Theo exclaimed, as though greeting a friend and not someone who'd just put him in a full body bind. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"I'm here to retrieve something you stole," Draco told him, raising a hand to the waiter for service. "I really did expect better from you. Considering how much trouble you're in."

"Who told you I'd stolen something?" Theo asked, watching Draco in a cold and calculating manner.

Draco ignored Theo and ordered a glass of wine.

"I hope you're realise you're not in any position to bargain," Draco said, when the waiter hurried away. "I will tell you what is going to happen now and then you are going to do what I say. If you don't,..."

"What?" Theo asked, a smug look settling into his eyes. "What exactly are you going to do?"

"Why, hand you over to the Ministry of course," Draco said, innocently. "A good long stint in Azkaban will do you the world of good."

"What exactly are they going to charge me with? You'll find no evidence that I've ever put so much a toe out of line."

Draco grinned and was pleased to see Theo's expression falter. "Evidence is easy to come by," he said. "I could tie you to any crime I wanted to. I have plenty of debts to call in from some not very nice people. Should I stick to blackmail and theft, or would you like me to be inventive? There are plenty of unsolved murders that could really do with a resolution."

"You can't," Theo spat, but he looked far less certain than he had a few minutes ago.

"Try me," Draco said, his voice pure ice.

They fell silent as the waiter returned and set the glass of wine down in front of Draco. He took a sip. "I'm going to tell you what happens now, and then you're going to make an unbreakable vow. Then you can slither back to whatever hole you crawled out of and rot for all I care."

"You can't make me..." Theo protested, but Draco cut him off with a look.

"We've just covered the fact that I can and I will. You brought this on yourself."

"What do you want?" Theo hissed. "Your money? Well you can't have it. I have nothing."

"I want you to release the Weasleys from that disgusting contract you tricked them into signing. I want you to take your name off everything of theirs you've managed to get your grubby hands on. I want you to apologise to them, profusely, for cheating them out of their homes and their livelihood, for making them trust you and then abusing them so abominably. And then I want you to stay away from them and everyone they know, forever."

Theo's mouth had fallen open in shock and his eyes were back to searching Draco's face. "The Weasleys?" he asked, his confusion obvious from his tone. "This is about the Weasleys?"

"You're not deaf then," Draco said with a smile. "Just stupid. Do you want me to repeat myself?"

"Why the hell are you trying to rescue that pack of hopeless duffers? Draco, be serious. If you're going to threaten me, do it for a better reason."

"My reasons are none of your business," Draco said with a sniff. "I am threatening you and you are going to do what I say."

"For the Weasleys?"

Draco inclined his head. "For the Weasleys."

\----

Mr Weasley returned from London two days later. He looked tired and defeated, and far older than Harry had ever seen him. He hugged Ginny tight and asked after Mrs Weasley, who was asleep.

"Probably for the best," he said with a slow nod, dropping down into a chair by the fire. "I have no idea what to tell her." He accepted a cup of tea from Hermione. "Thank you, my dear."

"Did you find anything, dad? Is there any way…" Ginny asked, trailing off when Arthur shook his head.

"The contract is water tight and no one has seen or heard from Nott in a month. Or at least, they're not talking if they have." He sipped his tea and Harry, Ginny and Hermione sat patiently, waiting for him to continue. "There are rumours of a lot of debt. Blackmail. We're not the first family taken in by him."

"He fooled everyone," Harry said. "You can't blame yourself."

"No, but I do," Mr Weasley sighed. "So do George and Ron." He paused. "And you, from what I'm told." Harry opened his mouth to apologise again, but Mr Weasley stopped him with a sigh. "We all share some of the blame."

"Oh, please," Hermione snapped, surprising them all. "Nott is the one to blame. Not yourselves. He's the one who tricked all of us."

"Well, don't worry, Hermione," Mr Weasley assured her. "If I ever see that young man again, I'll —"

They were never to discover what Mr Weasley would have done, for at that moment the fire flared green and Bill stepped into the living room, panting for breath.

"No time," Bill said excitedly, as they all clambered to assist him. "It's Nott. He's at Gringotts now."

\---

"It's all just a misunderstanding," Nott repeated for the tenth time, smiling at Arthur, Bill, George, Ron and Ginny who all sat opposite him across the large oak desk in Vidland, the Head Gringotts Goblin's office. Harry and Hermione had positioned themselves on either side of the door. "Honestly."

Ron snorted. "Have you ever said an honest word in your life?"

Harry had to admit that Nott looked suitably contrite. Maybe if he hadn't found all of that evidence of Theo's blackmailing in his desk, he would have believed this was a mistake. He could see Ginny was starting to question herself and George looked conflicted. Mr Weasley looked confused, which Harry empathised with. If this hadn't been a misunderstanding, why was Nott here now, giving everything back.

"I'm sorry," Theo apologised. "I've signed everything back to you, plus interest. I don't know how this could have happened."

"Plus interest?" George asked, looking at Bill. "Is that true?"

Bill looked over the contract. "It's true."

"But he's got no money," Hermione whispered to Harry. "That's what Arthur said. How is he paying it back with interest?"

Harry shook his head, determined to find out just as soon as he could.

Luckily the opportunity to question him arose just twenty minutes later. Once the Weasleys had gone over the new contracts and Vidland had assured them that there was now an extra fifty thousand galleons in their account, they had taken their leave to get some well deserved rest. Ginny had shaken Theo's hand and the others had thanked him for returning.

Harry waited for Nott to leave and followed him out into the corridor. "Can I have a word?"

"Do I have a choice?" Theo sighed. He looked around, as though half expecting someone to jump out and curse him. "I assume you're the one who threatened him."

"Threatened who?" Harry asked, confused.

"Draco," Theo drawled. "Obviously. He would never have done that without someone putting pressure on him. Did you tell him you'd lock his father back up?"

"I don't know what you're —"

"Well it's done," Theo spat. "You have your precious shop and your ugly house back. And Draco refilled the family coffers, so you can leave both of us alone now."

"Draco?" Harry repeated, turning Nott's words over and over in his head. "Draco Malfoy. He did this?"

Theo frowned. "You didn't know."

Harry shook his head."Why would he do that?"

"I have no idea," Theo said. "I thought it had all come from you." Harry shook his head and Theo shrugged. "Well, it makes no difference. I shan't be seeing any of you again." He pulled his cloak around him and walked away from Harry towards the Floo. "Goodbye, Potter."

\---

Things slowly went back to normal. Ron and Hermione were busy finalising the plans for their wedding, in December; George was spending most of his time developing a new line for the shop, now it was back under his own control, and Harry...

Harry wanted to talk to Draco. He'd been thinking of nothing else, but every time he picked up his quill to write a note, he found himself at a loss for words. How exactly do you go about thanking someone when you're not supposed to know there's anything to thank them for? And clearly whatever Draco had done had been out of the goodness of his heart - well, more likely his own hatred of Nott - rather than any lingering feelings for Harry, and he obviously didn't want anyone to know about it.

It was October before Harry realised, the days growing shorter, the nights drawing in. Harry had retreated to London and fallen back into his normal routine, visiting the Burrow only on weekends in order to referee any disagreements between Ron and Hermione.

One Saturday afternoon, after a particularly silly argument about seat covers that neither of them wanted, Harry dragged Ron off to fly, hoping that some time zooming around the countryside in the cold autumn air would calm Ron down.

They looped around the village, towards the Lovegoods' and then back out to the river, where they stopped, a gap in the trees giving them a perfect view of Cuttingly Court.

"I'm just stressed," Ron moaned. "And she's stressed. What are seat covers for anyway? What's wrong with just sitting on a normal chair? Why does it have to covered with rose pink tulle?"

Harry smiled. "So just don't have them."

"Her mum wants them," Ron sighed. "So we'll have to have them. I just want it to be over." Harry laughed and Ron punched his arm. "I'm serious. I love Hermione. I can't wait to be married to her. But this wedding is driving me mad."

Something moved in Harry's eyeline, and instead of answering, he turned his head towards it. "Oh my..."

"I know," Ron interrupted. "Maybe we should just elope."

"No," Harry shouted, turning Ron's head until he too could see the tiny but distinct figures of Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy in the distance.

"Bloody hell," Ron said, scrambling to his feet. "Do you think he's come back for Ginny?"

"I hope so," Harry said, mounting his broom and stamping down the feeling of elation he felt at seeing Draco again. "Come on."

The flew back to the Burrow as fast as they could. Arthur was in the garden when they slowed to a stop and jumped out, both talking at once.

"Boys, boys, what is it?"

The front door swung open and Molly, Ginny and Hermione hurried out. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

"Zabini," Ron panted. "He's back."

Everyone turned to look at Ginny.

"What?" she said, her face flushing red. "It's good that the house will be in use again. It's too beautiful to be left empty."

She turned gracefully away and walked back to the house. Everyone started talking at once.

"You have to go and see him," Molly told Arthur. "Invite him to dinner.

"Do you really think that's a good idea, mum?" Ron asked. "Maybe Ginny just wants to forget about him."

"Oh don't be ridiculous," Molly scolded him. "Why would she want that?"

Harry took the opportunity to sneak away, hurrying after Ginny into the house.

He knocked on her bedroom door. "It's me Gin," he said, cracking the door open a little and poking his head inside. "Can I come in?"

Ginny shrugged, nonchalantly. "I'm just reading."

Harry nodded to the book as he stepped inside. "It's upside down."

She threw it at at him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, once he'd set the book back on the shelf and sat down on the end of the bed.

"I'm perfectly fine," she said. "I don't care about him at all. So he's living there again. So what?"

"So you don't want to see him?" Harry asked, thinking that if were in her position, and wondering whether or not Malfoy still cared about him in the slightest, then he would probably be feeling rather sick and miserable right now. He was really very lucky, he told himself, not to be in Ginny's position.

"No," Ginny said. "I don't care if I ever see him again."

Harry nodded again and then moved so he was sitting next to her. He wrapped his arms around her and she leaned her cheek against his chest.

"I really wish I didn't care."

\---

Blaise paced in front of the fireplace, his face running through a whole range of emotions as he processed what he'd just heard. Draco sat, waiting patiently for a response. He'd be lucky if Blaise just yelled at him. The traditional method of revenge between them while they'd been at school had been a nasty hex, usually administered at a much later date. Pansy sat at the other end of the sofa, arms folded across her chest, glaring petulantly into the fire.

"And you're sorry?" Blaise asked eventually, which was just about the last thing Draco had been expecting him to say.

"Yes," Draco said sincerely.

"No," Pansy snapped, with the same amount of feeling. "I like Ginny, I do, but she's still a Weasley. You can't marry her."

"I can," Blaise said. "Just watch me."

Pansy sighed. "What is wrong with the two of you?"

Blaise ignored her and looked back at Draco. "I have your blessing?"

"Do you need it?" Draco asked, smiling.

"No," Blaise said, "but you're my best friend and your opinion matters to me."

"You have my blessing," Draco said. "I think you'll be very happy together."

Blaise waited only a few more seconds before bolting from the room, making Draco laugh.

Pansy turned her attention to him, fixing him with narrowed eyes. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean, 'what's going on'?" Draco asked, getting to his feet to avoid her curious gaze. "I want him to be happy. Don't you?"

"Oh forget about Blaise," Pansy said. "I don't give two hoots if he marries Ginny Weasley. You are acting peculiar."

"Don't be ridiculous," he scoffed. "I'm the same as always."

"You are not," Pansy said, jumping up to face him. "You're miserable and pretending to be happy. And you're trying to fix everyone else's problems because you can't fix your own."

"Give it a rest, Pans," Draco sighed. "I'm not miserable."

"And you're lying to me," she continued, pointing an accusing finger at him. "You never lie to me unless it's about..." She stopped, a look of horror overcoming her. "Oh no. No, no, please Draco, please. Anything but that."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said tightly.

Pansy groaned. "I can't believe it. Potter, of all people. Don't you want a Weasley too? The one who works with dragons, he's quite handsome, in an outdoorsy sort of way."

"Pansy," Draco said warningly, but she ignored him.

"I should have known. I should have done more. Your parents are going to have a fit."

"There is nothing going on between me and Harry," Draco assured her, but Pansy still wasn't listening.

"It's ridiculous. Your father will..." She stopped and looked at him properly. "What do you mean there's nothing going on?"

"He doesn't want me," Draco said levelly, and sat back down.

"Why the hell not?" Pansy asked, suddenly furious on his behalf. "What's wrong with you?"

"I'm allergic to cats," Draco said, with a roll of his eyes. "What do you think? I'm still me. Seven years of hating each other. Fighting a war against each other."

"He was fighting against Voldemort, darling," Pansy said, as though talking to a particularly stupid child. "I doubt he spent more than five minutes thinking about you, after sixth year."

"The point is —"

"The point is, he's an idiot. And you're an idiot, so you're pretty well perfect for each other."

Draco glared at her. "What happened to 'oh no, Draco. This is the worst thing you could ever do, Draco'?"

"It is," Pansy said, with finality. "But believe it or not, I do actually care about you being happy. You're probably the only person I do care about. So stop this moping around and go and talk to him. You're a Malfoy."

"It might have escaped your notice," Draco said, sardonically, "but this is how Malfoys deal with their problems. Moping, complaining…"

"I've known you since you were born," Pansy said, wryly. "You don't have to tell me you like to complain. But in this instance you're complaining to the wrong person."

"Fine," Draco interrupted, and got to his feet. "Anything to avoid a lecture. I'll go with Blaise."

\---

"Ginny!"

Molly's excited shriek pierced the air and Ginny groaned. Harry jostled her until she was no longer lying against him. She slapped his leg.

"What?" she shouted back to her mother, making Harry laugh.

"They're coming," Molly panted, bursting into the room a second later. "Put your blue dress on. Or the green. Harry, come down and help make some sandwiches."

"Mum," Ginny said, getting to her feet, "what are you talking about? Who is coming?"

"Blaise Zabini, of course," Molly told her. "Change into a dress." She pushed Harry unceremoniously from the room and closed the door behind them, leaving Ginny alone.

Harry was halfway down the stairs when Molly's first words finally caught up to him, and he stopped suddenly.

"They?" he asked, turning to face Molly on the stairs. "What do you mean they?"

"The letter said Draco Malfoy would be coming too. I suppose we have to let him in." She squeezed past Harry, who remained rooted to the spot, and bustled down the stairs. "I don't care who he brings, as long as he apologises to Ginny for breaking her heart and then fixes it."

Harry couldn't remember walking down the rest of the stairs, but found himself, moments later, cutting the crusts off the sandwiches Hermione was making.

"It's going a bit overboard if you ask me," Ron muttered, from where he was placing fondant fancies on a cake stand. "It's just Zabini and Malfoy."

"There's nothing wrong with making a good impression," Hermione whispered back.

Harry said nothing, allowing them to bicker good-naturedly. He was far too busy thinking about Draco and seeing him again. What should he say? How should he act? What would Draco say? Would he say anything at all about what had happened? Did he still have feelings for Harry?

Arthur's voice, raised in greeting, filtered in through the open window, and Harry, Ron and Hermione all froze for a fraction of a second before speeding up their chores. Hermione cast a cleaning charm to take care of the kitchen. Ron arranged the sandwiches and cakes neatly, while Harry laid out the tea set.

Ginny reached the bottom of the stairs, wearing her favourite blue dress, just as the front door opened and Arthur led Blaise and Draco inside. He smiled at Ron, Harry and Hermione who were now all sitting at the kitchen table as though they'd been there for hours. Hermione was pouring tea.

"Blaise," Molly hurried in from the living room to greet him, hugging him warmly. "We're so happy you've returned to us. How is your mother?"

"She's much better, Mrs Weasley," Blaise told her with a smile. "Thank you for asking."

She grinned again and patted his arm. "And Mr Malfoy," she said, turning to face Draco. "It's good of you to call."

"Thank you for allowing me to visit, Mrs Weasley," Draco murmured politely. "You have a beautiful home."

Mrs Weasley watched Draco closely for a moment, probably, Harry thought, to figure out whether or not he was making fun of her. Harry fidgeted slightly, staring at the side of Draco's face and willing him to turn and look at him, just for a moment. Whatever Molly saw in Draco's eyes, it must have pleased her, because she smiled and squeezed his hand.

"Won't you join us for some tea?"

They spent a pleasant hour over afternoon tea, with Blaise regaling them with stories of his travels, listening intently to Ron and Hermione's wedding plans and sharing longing looks with Ginny who sat opposite him. Draco stayed silent, but listened politely as the others talked. Harry continued to watch him, trying his best not to be too obvious about it.

After the sandwiches and cakes were consumed, Molly asked if they'd all like to go through to the living room. Draco looked at Blaise and gave him an infinitesimal nod.

"Actually, Mrs Weasley," Blaise said, getting to his feet, "I was about to ask Ginny if she'd like to go for a walk."

For the second time that day, all eyes landed on Ginny, who couldn't stop the blush from rising to her cheeks. "Yes, of course," she said quietly. "I'll just get my coat."

Once they'd gone, there was a collective sigh of relief, and Draco ducked his head to prevent anyone seeing his smile. Harry couldn't help himself. He stretched his leg out under the table and kicked Draco.

"Ow," Draco exclaimed, finally looking at Harry, eyes laughing even as he continued. "Watch it, Potter."

"Begging your pardon, Mr Malfoy," Harry replied with a grin and Draco laughed.

"How long do you think they'll be?" Molly asked, walking slowly towards the window where she might catch sight of them.

"A while, I'd say," Draco answered, winking at Harry. "Blaise has a lot to apologise for." He looked slightly embarrassed at that.

"I'd better make some more tea then," Molly said.

They moved into the next room as instructed, Ron snagging the cake stand as they went. Arthur retired back to the garden and Molly stayed in the kitchen to clear up.

"Is he going to propose then?" Ron asked, around a mouthful of cake, which made Hermione roll her eyes.

"I should think so," Draco said. "Try to look surprised though."

"I don't think there's any danger of having to," Ron replied. "Mum's going to be screaming with delight as soon as they come back into the garden."

They all laughed and Harry and Draco each snagged another cake from the stand before Ron demolished them all.

With Ron and Hermione there, there was no chance for Harry to talk to Draco privately about what had transpired with Theo, but he was having fun anyway talking and laughing about inconsequential things, until they heard the front door open and Ginny and Blaise returned, announcing their engagement.

Molly invited them to stay for dinner, and Blaise happily agreed. Draco, however, took the opportunity to excuse himself.

"I should really get back to Pansy," he said, accepting a hug from Molly with a fair amount of surprise. "You can't leave her alone for too long or she starts selling your things."

"I'll walk you out," Harry said quietly, as attention turned back to Ginny and Blaise.

"No," Draco said. "Please. Stay. Celebrate with your family. I have to go."

With that, he hurried out of the door and down to the gate, where he Apparated away, leaving Harry staring disappointedly into thin air.

\---

A few weeks later, as Friday afternoon turned slowly into Friday evening, Harry realised he was starting to lose interest in what he was doing. Work wasn't holding his focus and his thoughts drifted increasingly back to Draco. After the third time he caught himself staring out of the window, wondering if Draco would be at the Manor for the weekend, Harry decided enough was enough.

He packed his things away, pushed the case files he was working on into the inside pocket of his robes, bid Cashman and McCormick a good weekend and then headed out to the atrium. It was very rare that Harry left early, even on a Friday, but right now what he needed was a stiff drink and a good moan to his friends.

Passing the fountain he reached into his pocket for a galleon, planning on making his weekly wish for health and happiness for his friends and loved ones.

"Mr Potter."

Harry froze, the icy tones of Lucius Malfoy's voice fixing him to the spot. He closed his eyes and dropped the coin into the fountain, making a fervent wish that Malfoy would disappear without another word.

"What terrible manners for the saviour of the Wizarding world to display."

No such luck. Stupid fountain.

"Malfoy," Harry said, turning to face him. "Probation hearing?"

"Indeed," Lucius said tightly.

"Well, don't let me keep you from being anywhere else," Harry said with a fake smile and turned to leave. The handle of Lucius's walking stick hit his chest firmly, keeping him where he was.

"I'm not done, Mr Potter," Malfoy continued. "It has been brought to my attention that you are indulging in an..." He squirmed slightly, face twisting as though he had a bad taste in his mouth. "In an affair with my son."

Harry stared at Lucius in shock, unable to respond. He could feel his face heating up, and his heart pounding violently.

"Needless to say, whatever you think is between you, it must come to an end. Draco is all but engaged already, to Astoria Greengrass. What have you to say to that?"

Harry felt sick. "If he's engaged why do you think I pose any threat?"

"Draco has always been foolhardy where you're concerned," Lucius hissed. "Also prone to ridiculous whims. You will not hurt him again."

Harry felt his hackles rising. "I wouldn't dream of hurting Draco."

"Wilfully stupid boy. How do you think we could countenance such a match? He is a Pureblood Wizard."

Harry stood a little taller. "So am I."

"Your mother was a muggle," Lucius sneered, voice dripping with contempt.

"And if Draco doesn't care, I don't see what it has to do with you," Harry snapped, itching to pull out his wand and blast Lucius in the face with every hex he knew.

"Ridiculous child," Lucius sneered, eyes flashing dangerously as he glared at Harry. "If you continue in this manner, if you continue to selfishly destroy his chance of happiness and improvement, you must know what that means for you both. Draco will be disinherited. His name will never be spoken again in the house. His mother and I will never see him again. The Manor will pass straight to that odious Lupin child and you will have ruined our entire family. Is that why you've brought this about? Is that your interest in him?"

"Of course not!"

"Then you will promise me, this instant, that you will end what's between you and never marry him. Or I swear I will do everything in my power to ruin you."

Harry had never hated Lucius Malfoy more than he did in that moment. The threats to him were nothing new, but to threaten Draco…

"I will promise no such thing," Harry growled. He placed one hand on Lucius's chest and pushed him firmly away. "If you ever threaten me or Draco again, Malfoy, I'll make sure your feet don't even touch the ground on your way back to Azkaban."

Harry turned and made his way to the nearest Flu without a backward glance, but he felt Malfoy's frigid glare on his back the whole time.

\---

Harry wasn't sure how he managed to Apparate back to Grimmauld Place without splinching himself, but he was grateful for it nonetheless. He stormed inside, feeling the waves of anger rolling over him. He slammed the door behind him with enough force to knock a couple of pictures off the walls.

"Bastard!"

The door to the front parlour was open, and Harry could see Kreacher standing next to the piano, clearly debating with himself whether or not it was safe to speak up.

"Fucking bastard," Harry allowed himself, throwing off his outer robe, and then closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. "Sorry, Kreacher."

There was a sniff, and a rustle, and then Kreacher emerged into the hallway. "Weasley and the… Granger are here, Master Harry. I'll bring the tea." The crack punctuating his departure also seemed to sum up his displeasure.

Harry strode into the living room, glad to have his friends there to rant to. "Lucius Malfoy is an evil bastard," he said by way of greeting, earning matching looks of confusion from Ron and Hermione.

"Yeah," Ron said, as though Harry had pointed out that the sky was blue.

"Has something happened, Harry?" Hermione asked. "Did he do something?"

Harry laughed incredulously, ignoring the look Ron and Hermione shared, as he started to pace the room.

"He accosted me on the way out of the Ministry," he said, feeling himself getting worked up again. "I'd just finished work. I was crossing the atrium and suddenly there he was, looming over me."

Kreacher popped into the room then, set down the tea tray on the table and then popped away again. Harry sighed heavily.

"I'll sort the tea," Ron said quickly, jumping up.

Harry changed the route of his march across the carpet, and continued. "He had that bloody walking stick with him. Threatening me like I was twelve again."

"He threatened you?" Hermione asked anxiously. "Harry, that's serious. The terms of his release…"

Harry waved a hand dismissively. "That's not important. Arrogant bastard."

Ron carried cups of tea back to the sofa for him and Hermione. "What did he say?"

"He said," Harry scoffed, voice rising to levels not heard since Voldemort had been defeated, "listen to this. He said, if I married Draco, he'd ruin both of us."

Ron and Hermione shared that look again, before Ron sank back into the sofa cushions and blew out a breath. "Is there any cake?"

"He said," Harry continued, as if Ron hadn't spoken, "that he'd disinherit him. Draco! He said he'd rather the Manor went straight to Teddy than see me living there. He said I'd already done enough damage to their family and I wasn't going to steal Draco away from them too."

Ron snorted. "And you thought I was thick," he muttered to Hermione. She grinned widely, but quickly swallowed it down and shushed him.

"He wanted me to promise I'd never marry him. He said Draco was going to marry Astoria bloody Greengrass."

"Daphne's sister," Hermione said, and sipped daintily from her teacup when Harry glared at her. "She's very sweet. They'd have beautiful children."

"Hermione," Harry growled, looking utterly betrayed. "You're supposed to be on my side."

"I am on your side, Harry," Hermione said. "Do you know what your side is, at all?"

Harry blinked. "I don't understand."

Ron sat forward again and looked seriously at Harry. "What did you say? When he asked you to promise not to marry Mal-Draco? What did you say?"

"I told him to go fu…" Harry's eyes widened slightly and his mouth dropped open. He stared at them in shock.

"There it is," Ron said. He got to his feet and patted Harry on the shoulder. "Sit down, mate. I'll get us some cake."

Hermione grabbed hold of Harry's wrist and guided him to the sofa beside her. "I know it's a lot to take in. You'll be alright in a couple of minutes."

"You knew?" Harry said. "You both knew?"

"It was pretty obvious," Ron said, reappearing with a three-layer walnut cake, filled with buttercream. "I mean you've always been a bit mental about him."

"And when we were in Wiltshire you were so happy," Hermione said. "We talked about it, Ron and I, and we think he's good for you. We were just waiting for you to work it out in your own time."

"Took you long enough," Ron said, cutting them each a huge a slice of cake. "Now, what are you going to do?"

Harry accepted the cake and the cup of tea Hermione poured for him. "I have absolutely no idea."

\---

Hill accosted Draco as soon as he stepped out of the Floo. He had always been the most professional and obedient elf the Malfoy family employed. In all of Draco's twenty-five years, he'd never seen Hill remotely flustered. Now he was wringing his hands and practically shaking with fear.

"Master Draco," he said, anxiously. "It's your father."

Draco raced towards the drawing room without a second thought, listening as best he could to Hill's rambling explanation.

He threw open the door to find his father, prostrate on the chaise, laughing so hard he was turning red. His mother sat with her needlework on the other side of the room, near the window, ignoring him.

"What's going on?" Draco asked, confused and growing increasingly irritated.

"Hello sweetheart," his mother greeted him. "Ignore your father. Come and sit with me."

Draco kept his eyes on his father as he crossed the room and kissed his mother's cheek, before taking a seat opposite her. "What's wrong with him?" he asked. "Has he been cursed?"

The word only seemed to make Lucius laugh harder and Draco turned his worried frown on his mother.

"He's fine," Narcissa said with a sniff and a glare in her husband's direction. She looked quickly back and Draco and smiled. "How are you?"

Draco really didn't want to talk to his mother about how he felt right now, but couldn't bring himself to lie to her face, so he shrugged half-heartedly and picked up a paper.

"That's not an answer, darling," Narcissa said. "Answers have words. I asked you a question. Speak up and enunciate."

If there was one thing Draco hated, it was his parents' ability to make him feel twelve years old at any given moment. His mother pursed her lips and waited, looking as regal and serene as he'd ever seen her. Draco narrowed his eyes at her.

"What's going on?" He looked between his parents; his mother, watching him with one slightly raised brow and his father, giggling quietly to himself across the room. "What have you done?"

Lucius sat up, finally seeming to gain control of himself, and rang the bell for Hill.

"Master Draco will be requiring his best robes and cloak," he said, when the elf appeared in the doorway, looking as nervous as Draco felt. Hill disappeared in an instant to prepare Draco's things.

"I had an interesting conversation this afternoon," Lucius said, standing to pour himself and Draco a drink. "I bumped into Harry Potter at the Ministry, while I was there for my yearly..." He coughed delicately.

"Probation hearing," Draco said flatly, waving his father on.

"Quite," Lucius said, with a tight smile. He handed Draco his drink and moved to stand behind Narcissa, resting one hand on her shoulder.

Draco would have smiled at such an obvious display of his parents love for each other, if he hadn't been entirely focused on the words his father had just said. He was surprised the glass he was holding didn't crack, considering how hard he was gripping it. His mother reached out one hand to cover Draco's.

"I made it clear to him that it was quite out of the question that you should marry him and that things were almost settled with the young Greengrass girl, so he should stay away from you if he knew what was good for him."

Draco's glass smashed into a hundred pieces, as did his father's glass, and his mother's 18th Century porcelain vase on the other side of the room.

His father continued speaking as though nothing had happened.

"Then I asked for his assurance that he would remove himself from your life. I asked him to promise that he would never marry you, if somehow you were deluded enough to ask."

Draco held his breath, suddenly feeling as though he was balanced on a precipice.

"What did he say?" Draco croaked, when his father turned away to look out of the window and his mother began vanishing what remained of her vase.

"Hmmm?" Lucius glanced back at Draco and waved his hand dismissively. "Oh. He said he would promise no such thing."

Draco stood so suddenly his chair fell back onto the floor unheeded. "He did?"

"He did," Lucius confirmed. "He told me if I threatened either of you again he'd make sure I spent the rest of my life rotting in Azkaban."

"Aha!" Draco laughed. Rounding the table he kissed his mother's cheek and threw his arms around father to hug him. "He threatened you?"

Lucius raised an eyebrow at him, but hugged him back. "I suppose having Harry Potter as a son-in-law wouldn't kill me."

"Thank you," Draco whispered. "Thank you."

"Yes, yes," Lucius said, a wry smile curling his lips as he stepped back. "Go and talk to your young man before I change my mind."

Draco hurried across the room, but stopped at the door by his father's most imperious tone of voice.

"Oh and, Draco?"

"Yes, Father?"

"You owe your mother a vase."

\---

As soon as the clock on Harry's mantle struck six, Hermione stood and dragged Ron to his feet. "I promised mum and dad we'd go and see some fireworks with them," she said, transfiguring hers and Ron's cloaks into muggle overcoats. "And I told Ron we'd take the tube."

Harry grinned as Ron's face lit up, still getting excited when Hermione indulged his desire to experience muggle things. He hugged them both and walked them to the door.

"Are you going to be alright?" Ron asked, when they stepped out into the cold night air. "We could stay."

"I'm fine, don't be silly," Harry said. "I'm just going to spend the rest of the evening forming a plan of attack."

Hermione groaned. "Don't do anything stupid will you, Harry?"

"Like what?"

"Like Floo to Malfoy Manor and confront Lucius in front of Draco."

Harry was shaking his head, torn between amusement and pique, when a third voice chimed in.

"Especially when there's no need."

Ron and Hermione turned, parting slightly so that Harry had a perfect view of Draco, standing on the street. He found himself at a loss for words, so surprised to see him that he simply gaped at him, like a fish. It had been weeks since he had seen Draco at The Burrow, when Ginny and Blaise had announced their engagement. According to Blaise he’d returned to Wiltshire the next day and Harry hadn’t had another chance to talk to him. 

Seeing Draco now, suddenly there outside his house, after everything Lucius had said and everything Ron and Hermione had just dragged out of him made Harry’s insides squirm. He was torn between excitement and nerves. 

"Okay," Hermione said slowly, tugging on Ron's hand for him to follow her down the steps and along the street to the tube station. "Bye, Harry!" she called. "Bye, Draco!"

"Bye!" Ron shouted, laughing. "Don't do anything we wouldn't do."

Harry ignored them, his attention focused solely on Draco, was still standing, three steps below him. He looked wonderful. 

"My father told me he saw you," Draco said. "I wanted to talk to you. May I come in?"

Luckily Harry had the presence of mind to move out of the doorway and allow Draco to enter. "Sorry, yes, come in," he said, as Draco brushed past him. "Let me take your cloak."

Draco handed it over, glancing around the hall while Harry hung it up. "I've been here before."

"Yes," Harry said. "Sirius left it to me."

Draco nodded. "It's nice. Nicer than it was. Not as miserable."

Harry gestured into the living room and Draco preceded him in. He looked nervous, Harry thought. At least as nervous as Harry felt. That gave him some comfort.

"You spoke to your father?"

"Yes," Draco said, turning to face him. "He told me he warned you to stay away from me."

"He said you were engaged to Astoria Greengrass," Harry blurted out. "You're not, are you?"

"No," Draco agreed, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Do you care?"

"Of course I care," Harry said quickly. "Draco, I… I wanted to thank you for what you did for the Weasleys. Nott told me you'd threatened him with something. I don't know how you tracked him down or what you had to do to get him to repay them. It was very good of you."

Draco stared at Harry in shock for a moment and then seemed to shake himself. "They're good people," he said. "I didn't want anyone else to get hurt because of him. He's ruined enough lives."

They stood for a moment in silence, Draco looking around the room, Harry looking at Draco.

"I love you," Draco rushed ahead suddenly, and then closed his eyes tightly, a blush creeping over his cheeks. Harry was fascinated. "What I mean to say is, my feelings haven't changed. If you don't feel the same, tell me right now so the floor can swallow me up."

Harry's heart was pounding and he couldn't think of any words that could suitably express how he felt at that moment. He'd always been more of an act first, explain later kind of person. So he did the only thing that seemed to make sense — he kissed Draco.

Draco moaned against Harry's mouth, sliding his tongue over his bottom lip and licking into his mouth when Harry's lips parted for him. Draco's hands slid into Harry's hair, while Harry's arms went around Draco's waist, flattening against his back to pull him closer.

"That," Harry said, resting his forehead against Draco's when they finally pulled apart. "That's how I feel."

Draco smiled and stole another kiss. "Thank Merlin," he chuckled. "Until father spoke to me earlier, I imagined the best I could hope for was your friendship. Then you threatened to have him sent back to Azkaban."

Harry nuzzled against Draco's jaw, pressing light kisses along the curve towards the corner of his mouth. "He said he'd never allow you back in the house if you were with me."

"He has an awful sense of humour," Draco said dryly. "But I knew you'd never have defended me so vigorously if you didn't feel even the slightest affection for me."

"I adore you," Harry murmured. "If I didn't..."

"You'd have called me a spoiled, selfish bastard," Draco said, repeating Harry's words, flung so angrily at him back in August.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Draco pushed Harry back slowly towards the sofa, and then fell on it together, lips and chests pressed together, arms around each other, legs entwined. "I deserved it. I am spoiled and selfish. I have been all my life. For some reason you make me want to change all that."

Harry smiled and tilted his head up for another kiss. "I think you're doing just fine."

\---

Ron and Hermione’s wedding day — two days before Christmas — was bright and cold, snow covering the fields surrounding The Burrow, making it all the more picturesque. 

There were rose-coloured seat covers, as Mrs Granger had requested, and gardenias for the centrepieces, like Molly had suggested. There were two cakes, because Ron and Hermione never had been able to agree about that, and their wedding dance was actually a wedding stroll along the riverbank, just the two of them. 

After an hour of dancing with all of the Weasley women, Harry collapsed into a chair beside Draco, who had decamped to the table closest to the champagne fountain.

“I know your game,” he said, taking the glass from Draco’s hand and draining it in one swallow. 

“I told you before,” Draco said, watching him with an amused glint in his eye. “I don’t dance.”

“I thought you’d make an exception for me,” Harry protested. “You danced with Luna after all.”

“That’s true,” Draco mused. “Alright, Potter. Would you do me the honour?”

Harry laughed, but got to his feet, taking Draco’s offered hand.

The music changed to something slow, and almost everyone vanished from the dance-floor to rest and get a drink, leaving Harry and Draco practically alone under the sparkling disco ball.

“You did that on purpose,” Draco said, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist. “I feel as though everyone’s watching me.”

“Everyone is,” Harry told him. “You’re gorgeous. They’re wondering how I got so lucky.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “They’re more likely wondering what spell I’ve cast on you.”

Harry buried his face in Draco’s neck and chuckled. “Yeah.

“You really are a dick sometimes, Potter,” Draco muttered, but tightened his arms around Harry. “You made a good speech.”

“Thank you,” Harry said. “It was seven years in the making. I think it paid off.”

Draco snorted. “You’re an idiot.”

“I think we’ve already established that we’re both idiots,” Harry replied. “Lucky we found each other really.”

Harry felt Draco grin against his cheek and closed his eyes, completely content.

“Yes,” Draco murmured. “It really is.”


End file.
